Blood and Roses
by Orlha Chloe
Summary: "There was no Jackson Rippner on that flight." Lisa finds herself being treated as the villain instead of the victim. Now she is on the run, and only one man can help her. After all, how can Jackson Rippner be dead if he was never on the Red Eye?
1. Animal I Have Become

**Chapter 1: Animal I Have Become**

"Miss Reisert, I think it's time you started telling us the truth about this incident."

Lisa Reisert bit her lower lip, her brow furrowing. "What do you mean?" she asked the officer, shifting uncomfortably on her father's sofa. She shifted her gaze between the two cops sitting across from her, trying to read their blank expressions. She still couldn't believe that they were accusing her of lying, even though this was the third day of said accusations.

Lisa gripped her dad's hand tightly, clenching her jaw in an attempt to fight back frustrated tears. She had been an idiot to think that Jackson Rippner would have let her go so easily. He had attempted to destroy her life, and it seemed that even in death, things didn't change- now he was intent on dragging her down to Hell with him.

Officer Weiderich sighed. "We've been over this. There was no Jackson Rippner on that flight. There was, however, a Jim Richards, who is now dead, and who as far as we can tell has no connections with any sort of terrorist organizations. An innocent man." _An innocent man. _Lisa's upper lip curled in distaste. Forget the 'innocent' part, she had started to doubt that he was even a 'man.' Obviously, he had set her up to take the fall for his plan, and she couldn't imagine any sane human being so willing to murder children and tear apart the lives of _actual _innocent people.

She shot to her feet, livid. "So he used an alias! Why would I willingly call Cynthia and have Keefe's room number changed unless I was part of a plot to kill him and his family?" Weiderich started to reply, but she cut him off. "And if I was part of a plot, why would I then call it off?" Joe Reisert rose and placed his hands on his daughter's shoulders, trying to calm her. She would have none of it though, and shrugged off his touch. "And then frame an _innocent man-_" she spat the words out as though she had taken a drink of spoiled milk "-as the actual terrorist? How is _that_ more logical than Jackson Rippner, a _professional_, traveling under a fake name?"

A week ago, Lisa would never have talked like this. She would have addressed the situation calmly and rationally. But that was before Jackson shattered her cool, shiny exterior and left her to meld the pieces back together with hot flame. "Oh!" she continued, raising her hands in exasperation. "And if I _was_ making up a name, Jackson Rippner_? Jack the Rippner? Really?!_" The officers watched her, unfazed. Lisa deflated, losing her momentum. She crossed her arms, staring defiantly at the two men.

"It is not my place to tell you what your motives were, Miss Reisert. But you are being placed under arrest and you will come with us down to the station."

_Like hell_, Lisa retorted in her own mind, but Weiderich was not finished.

"As will you, Mr. Reisert."

Joe held up a defensive hand, the other still tight on Lisa's shoulder. "Now hold on-"

"Absolutely not!" Lisa cried, interrupting her father, "He has nothing to do with it!" She shook her head briefly as she realized that would be interpreted as a confession that there was an "it" to be associated with, blanching.

The other poker-faced officer, Murphy, spoke for the first time. "Miss Reisert," he began, "We are under orders from Keefe. We are not from Miami PD." Lisa's eyes narrowed. What the hell was that supposed to mean? She didn't see what difference that could possibly make. Surely the federal government had to follow the same rules as police? "So for both your sakes, why don't you acknowledge the very real danger you are in and understand that the longer you resist, the worse it will be." _Apparently they don't._

He placed his palm the grip of his gun. Lisa paled, eying her dad. He had a look of confusion written all over his face. She knew he was in way over his head. Joe Reisert was not used to being threatened, whereas Lisa had extensive experience. One lesson Jackson taught her was that it was best not to waste time asking questions and more important to resolve the situation. Sometimes that involved shoving a pen through a man's trachea.

"We all know there is no Jackson Rippner and there never was," Murphy continued, and Lisa realized that as far as they were concerned, she was just a mute target. They never really responded to her explanations and questions. "We suspect that you devised this plot to gain Keefe's trust and make it easier to assassinate him in the future without suspicion."

That was the biggest crock of shit Lisa had ever heard. Jackson's plan would have worked had she not intervened, as evidenced by the gaping hole in the Lux Atlantic.

Lisa opened her mouth to say so, but Murphy wordlessly silenced her. He drew the gun, but held it at his side, the barrel aimed at the carpet. _For now._ "However, if you and Mr. Reisert do not cooperate and come with us now, we have been given permission to eliminate the threat." He nodded toward Joe, whose face was flushed with anger at this point. "He is coming along for _collateral_." Murphy softly emphasized the last word, his trained eyes narrowing in on Lisa's.

_Not again. Never again_. Lisa Reisert was done. She was not going to let her father be used against her anymore. She felt the rising rage in her chest turn to a crushing wave of adrenaline. She shoved her father away from her and launched at Murphy in a feral rage, catching the man off guard and knocking him over. The man fell back, his head smashing on the wooden arm of the chair he had previously been sitting in. He did not get back up. A crimson halo of blood seeped into the rug around his head, and his eyes stared blankly at the ceiling.

She saw Weiderich pull his gun and aim for her. Time froze. Lisa stared into the barrel of the gun and stiffened, preparing for the bullet. If she was marked by Homeland Security, there was no way out of it. At least if they killed her now, her father would be safe.

But the bullet never came. At least, it didn't hit her where she expected. She closed her eyes as a wall of force slammed into her slender body, sending her hard toward the hardwood floor and crushing the air out of her lungs. She didn't have time to feel that pain before she felt the explosion of tearing flesh as the bullet entered her left shoulder. She was alive, but on fire, and she still couldn't breathe. She opened her eyes and immediately wished that she hadn't.

The dead weight on her chest was literal. Joe Reisert had lunged right after her, and he had taken the bullet through his throat. Her first instinct was to close her eyes again and just wait for the next bullet. Her father, the loving man who spent too much of his time worrying about her, the only anchor left in her life, was dead because of her. What did she have to live for now?

"_Ever since, I've been trying to convince myself of one thing, over and over."_

"_That it was beyond your control."_

"_No. That it would never happen again."_

Jackson's smooth voice whispered the unspoken words, shattering her resignation yet again. The sound of his voice gave her the power she needed as the wave of adrenaline came back, this time a crushing tsunami.

_So don't let it._

The bastards had killed her father, and now they would kill her. She turned her head slightly and reached for the gun previously knocked out of Murphy's hand. She peeked over her father's shoulder and fired at Weiderich, hitting him in the arm. She fired again as he recoiled, hitting him below his rib cage, and again, this time getting him in the chest.

Lisa rolled out from under her dad's body, wincing as he fell all the way to the hardwood floor with a dull thump. Lisa flinched, recalling the last time she had heard the sickening sound- when Jackson hit the ground behind her, a fatal bullet in his chest.

She stood over Weiderich, kneeling down slowly as she studied him. With one hand aiming the gun at his head, she reached a shaking hand closer to the large man and placed two fingers on his throat. No pulse. She turned to Murphy, who still hadn't moved. She aimed the gun for him, firing one shot into his head with an involuntary whimper. She grabbed Weiderich's gun from the floor and stashed both weapons in her purse.

She had to leave. Swallowing hard, Lisa knelt by her father's body and tentatively reached into his pocket, pulling out his new wallet. She quickly rifled through it, grabbing the cash and placing the wallet gently back into his pocket. She threw the cash in her purse as well and darted for the front entrance, grabbing Joe's car keys and the house keys from the dish on the end table as she did.

Lisa ran out the door, half expecting that she was going to be greeted by an entire force of men with guns trained on her. Instead, she saw only Miami sunshine, rows of peaceful homes, and her dad's SUV parked in the driveway. She jumped in the car and drove away, tires squealing on the asphalt.

Lisa's lungs burned as she gasped in cold air. It felt like her first breath since her father had slammed into her. _Daddy..._Tears flooded Lisa's green eyes, tumbling in free fall down her cheeks. She wiped them roughly from her flushed skin. _No_. Her father would not have sacrificed himself so she could break down and give up. _You stole his money. _She tried to banish the mocking voice, knowing that she had taken the money because she needed it._ No...you __**need**__ it._

In the forefront of her mind, Lisa knew she had to survive. She had to stay strong. The only way to do that was to keep a clear head. She tore her heartbreak away from her core, feeling as much pain as if she was severing her own flesh. She couldn't deal with her dad yet. She couldn't afford to grieve properly. She was on the run, blindly moving toward an unknown destination.

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**So...how was it? ConCrit definitely welcome!**


	2. Road to Nowhere

**I don't write disclaimers because I _am_ Wes Craven and I _do_ own Red Eye. So there. :)**

**Again, Lisa might seem a little OOC this chapter...she'll start dealing with her feelings soon, promise.**

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**Chapter 2: Road to Nowhere**

Lisa pulled into a rest stop. She knew she was about 20 miles from Atlanta, but looking back at the last few hours, she couldn't remember how exactly she had gotten there. She had started driving from Miami and just kept going until she felt her head threatening to drop on the steering wheel. She gripped the steering wheel tightly. Letting her mind freeze over was no better than indulging in her grief. She had to stay focused. If the government was after her, no doubt her name and photo was all over the news and police band. She couldn't risk getting pulled over, and so she had to focus on her driving. But where was she even going?

"_We'll talk again."_

Given more time, would Jackson have showed up in Miami? Lisa shook her head at her own stupidity, dropping her head against the steering wheel in disgust. Jackson was dead. And if he wasn't dead, then Jim fucking Richards was.

"_There was no Jackson Rippner on that flight."_

_An innocent man."_

Lisa couldn't help but wonder how Jackson would react to being called an innocent man. Would he be smug, secure in the knowledge that no one was the wiser? Somehow she doubted it. Jackson would probably be insulted. _Hardly_, he would probably say, with barely imperceptible scoff and a slight roll of those exquisite- but deadly- blue eyes.

_Jackson Rippner._

Did he even exist? Was that even his real name? Lisa reclined her seat, trying her best to get comfortable. Why would Jackson give her his real name? _Is it even his real name?_

"_Do you ever run out of questions, Leese?"_

Lisa smiled sadly. Maybe the feds were right. Maybe Jackson _was_ a figment of her imagination. How else was she hearing him say words that had never left his beautiful lips? Exquisite...beautiful...she sounded like a smitten teenager, not a victim of terror. Maybe it was for the best, though. Maybe if she kept focusing on Jackson's good qualities- she ignored the little voice in her head laughing at her for thinking he could have _good_ qualities- she could stop thinking of the overwhelming fear she had felt during that damn flight.

Like in the bathroom. She closed her eyes, remembering how he shoved her up against the bathroom wall, his lips barely an inch from hers. If he hadn't revealed himself to be a heartless monster and really was the charming man from the Tex Mex, that whole scenario would have been played out differently. That searing thrill in her lower belly, her small prayer that he would move just a little forward and capture her lips with his, would have been justified.

But instead, it had just made her feel all the more horrified and humiliated. _No, no insteads._ What would that have been like? Passion of a different kind, a different kind of pain as he shoved her up against the wall, his intoxicating scent flooding her senses. It could have been something out of a romance novel. Meeting a sexy stranger on a random December evening and then surrendering to her heart- well, sex drive- instead of her mind and letting him take her in a tiny bathroom on an airplane flying somewhere over the country.

"_Thanks for the quickie."_

Or maybe it would be a bad porno.

She would never be able to explain exactly why, but when she had joined Jackson in the Tex Mex, she had hoped so badly that he was going to be the man to finally help put together a part of her that had been dead and broken for two years. Why she had that hope after mere minutes of conversation, she would never know. She had felt such a strong connection to him, something she hadn't felt with anyone, even before her rape.

Lisa was yanked from her daydreaming when she noticed that a cop car was parked next to her in the lot. Her heart stopped. She noticed there was no officer in the car and dropped down low in her seat. Should she drive away? Lisa started her car, but then hesitated. Either the cop hadn't noticed her, or at least wasn't concerned when he _had_ noticed her, or he was watching from somewhere and waiting for backup. If that was the case, she was dead anyway. She didn't have it in her to pull off a high speed chase. And even with this new surge of adrenaline, she was so tired. She wasn't sure if she could make it to the next rest stop, wherever it was.

Lisa turned the car off again, slumping in her seat. She hardly breathed as she waited to see what would happen. She could move her car to a different spot, but that would be too suspicious. She could leave the rest stop and get off the freeway, but she didn't know how far she was from the next town. Lisa let out what little air was in her lungs when the cop got back into his car, holding a small plastic bag, and made his way back to the freeway.

Lisa knew she had to do something. She had to make herself less conspicuous. And she definitely had to get rid of the car. She knew the feds wouldn't catch on right away that she had taken her dad's car, since it was one of three, but eventually they would figure it out. When that happened, she would never be safe in the vehicle. The longer she waited, the more her face, name, and God only knew what else would be spread across the country.

She glanced in the mirror. Her hair would have to go...red curls stood out too much. She wouldn't have time or the means to actually dye it, but she could probably chop it off herself. She winced, recalling the awful haircuts she got when she was younger. Her mother had tired of seeing her "lion's mane," as she called it, and insisted Lisa keep it short until she was old enough to manage the wild curls herself.

But it would probably work now. A short haircut and maybe a hat to hide most of the red. She glanced down at her body, her skirt that showed off her legs. The high heels didn't help matters. Lisa had never thought of herself as a tramp, but the more she studied herself, the more she became aware that this outfit was designed to stand out and attract attention.

She had at least covered her tank top with a sweatshirt of her dad's that she found in the backseat, but that didn't help much- the blood from her bullet wound was started to seep into the fabric. She had stopped at a Walgreens and wrapped the wound with bandages she purchased, but she knew she had to have her injury looked at. The last thing she needed was to get infected and have her arm fall off or something. She bit her lip and shifted her gaze. The longer she looked at her arm, the more she could feel the pain of the bullet still lodged in her skin. If she didn't think about it, she didn't feel it. But how was she supposed to stop thinking about it?

She scowled, pulling out her purse. $200 from Joe, and only $40 of her own cash left, indicating that she must have stopped for gas one or two times. She didn't remember stopping. Most of the trip so far had been spent in a state of frozen shock. She didn't remember the landscape, other vehicles, or anything other than the hammering of her heart in her throat and the silence of true loneliness.

Lisa thought about her bank accounts. She hardly went out and never took vacations, so she knew she had plenty of money. She cursed herself for not thinking of this earlier. If she withdrew money from an ATM, they would be able to track it. And she could only take out a few hundred at a time. This left her with two options. She could stop at a bank in Atlanta and risk being identified by a teller if her information really was wide-spread already, or keep driving and stop at an ATM in every town to take out money and thus leave a trail for the feds to follow.

_Trail to where?_ Until this moment, Lisa was able to ignore the voice in her head demanding to know exactly _where_ she was taking them. She couldn't keep driving around the country until the feds caught up with her; she might as well have surrendered back at her father's house- another small voice was crushed when it tried to bring up her dad- if that was all she planned to do.

_What's the damn plan?_

_I don't know!_

Lisa closed her eyes tightly, hoping that would keep her tears from falling. Tears wouldn't do her any better than questions at this point. _What __**is**__ the plan...?_

"Catch up, Lisa! We're going to be late." Lisa looked up from her feet and saw her father walking in front of her, his arms full of sodas and popcorn. How had she gotten to a movie theater?

"Daddy!" She ran toward him, feeling her eyes start to burn with tears again. She followed her father as he disappeared through a door and into a theater. She sat down next to him, watching him carefully place the sodas in their drink holders. "Dad..."

"I heard this movie is supposed to be great," he whispered seemingly not noticing her tears.

Lisa frowned. "Who cares about a movie? How are you here? You're..." she stopped short of saying 'dead,' the word catching in her throat.

"Lisa..." Joe murmured, his eyes boring into hers, "You wanted help. I think this will help you." Lisa wanted to scream at him, but the words won't come out. How would a movie help her? She felt her head turn toward the empty screen as though invisible hands were forcing it and resigned herself to her fate, reclining in her chair. There were worse things than watching a movie, after all.

The movie began. It's boring at first, snapshots of a young girl at graduation, playing field hockey, etc. A wallet gets stolen. A few men as of yet unidentified cart a crate around. Lisa glanced at her dad, who was still staring at her unnervingly.

"Watch the movie, Lisa," he whispered, his dark eyes unblinking.

_Hey, that's Cynthia_...Lisa recognized the doe eyes, the precious voice. She was handling angry customers. _The Taylors._ Lisa watched herself talk Cynthia through the problem. Her eyes widened. She remembers this conversation. She felt her heart tighten in her chest. She knew what- who- was coming.

And sure enough, Lisa stopped breathing when she saw those piercing blue eyes appear behind her onscreen self. Jackson...She squeezed her eyes shut. She did _not_ need to see this again.

"Oh, anything but a Bay Breeze." Lisa opened her eyes again as the credits started to roll. She realized that she had been gripping the arm of her chair, but couldn't seem to let go no matter how hard she pulled. She sighed in relief, turning to her father.

"How was that supposed to help?" She moved to get up, thoroughly irate that her father would bring her to this.

"Lisa, sit down," Joe ordered, excitement in his voice, "Haven't you seen enough of these movies to know to sit through the credits? The villain is never dead, you know." Lisa opened her mouth to argue, but again, no words came out. _Jackson__** is**__ dead._ She had watched him dying on their kitchen floor and later had been told by the police that he had died at the hospital. He had already been cremated, and no one ever came to claim him. She furrowed her eyebrows and turned back to face the screen, a dull feeling of dread deep in her stomach. Of course the villain was dead.

The credits ended and the screen went black. Lisa's frown deepened. "There's nothing there-" her voice is strangled by a gasp as she turns to face her father. Where her father was, _he _now sat. Icy blue eyes. High cheekbones that cast shadow on his face in the dim light. Full lips unsmiling. He gripped the wrist that still clung to the arm of her chair, squeezing tightly. His whisper was harsh in her ears.

"_We'll talk again."_

Lisa woke up with a jerk, her eyes flying open. She whipped her head over to check the seat next to her. Nothing. _Just a dream._ She held up her right arm and studied her wrist for marks. It had been so real...she could still feel his fingers digging into her skin.

But even as she tried to convince herself, Lisa knew it wasn't just a dream. She had known it all along, somewhere in her heart. Jackson was still alive. And he was coming for her. She shook her head. Even if he meant what he said, which at the time she thought was nonsense, he couldn't come after her yet. Even if he managed to cheat death itself, she had watched him get shot twice. She had seen him with a pen lodged in his throat. He had to be recovering somewhere.

Even with this new thought, Lisa wasn't scared. She was angry. That bastard got her into this mess, and he was going to get her out of it. She ignored the voice, now screaming at the top of its lungs in her mind, begging her to be reasonable, reminding her even if Jackson was alive, he was the last man in the world who would want to help her. He would probably kill her the moment she got within range.

_I have no other choice_, she rationalized, making her way back onto the freeway, _It's either die by his hands or run aimlessly until Keefe catches up to me. _She flew down the freeway toward Atlanta, the rising sun lighting her car.

Jackson was alive, and wherever he was, Lisa was going to find him. And when she found him, _she _would steal _him._

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**How was it? As always, ConCrit welcome! Thanks to those of you who reviewed. It's always nerve-wracking to start a new story and not know how it's going to be received.**


	3. Road to Somewhere

**Chapter 3 is finally up! Thank you so so much to all of you who reviewed! Again, I'm Wes Craven, and I have Cillian Murphy locked in my basement on reserve for all future projects. Autographs will be sent to those who review. :D**

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**Chapter 3: Road to Somewhere**

Lisa sat in the public library. Her auburn hair was now chopped short, cut to pieces by her own hand at another rest stop outside Atlanta. It had been an embarrassing ordeal- Lisa had taken pride in her hair, and every snip of the scissors was like a tiny death. She felt pathetic for mourning over some lost hair when her father was probably in a cold drawer of the morgue, but it was what it was

She had made it into Atlanta a few hours ago, stopping first at a small strip mall. She purchased some nondescript clothing- jeans and hoodies. She was overheated, but she couldn't wear t-shirts or tank tops and reveal the bandages on her shoulder. She had re-wrapped her wound with a fresh bandage, but not without difficulty. She was finding it difficult to move the joint without sending sharp pains up and down her arm. Keeping the wound as clean as possible was all could really do, though. That and take as much extra strength Tylenol as allowed without overdosing.

She had a goal now: she had to find Jackson. Problem was, she didn't know where to even start. She doubted he would be listed in the White Pages. For all she knew, Jackson Rippner was another alias. She doubted that, though, because why bother to give her a different alias than the one he was already using? She couldn't look for Jim or James Richards. Even if it _was_ the name Jackson went by, it was way too common a name to look for.

_Here goes nothing. _Lisa pulled up Google, and typed Jackson Rippner into the search engine. She skimmed over the usual MySpace, Facebook, and LinkedIn ads. Jackson would have none of those, she knew. She was looking for something older. If it really was his name, she doubted anything from the last ten years would really be of use.

Five pages in, Lisa's eyes fell on a link and summary that gave her some hope. _St. Croix High School Boys' Swim Team State Champions. _Jackson Rippner was highlighted in bold in the summary as well as the last name of a Caleb Rippner. She clicked the link. The article was from 2000. She did the math in her head. It was probable that Jackson was in his late 20's now, so he would have been in high school back in 2000. She squinted at the photo accompanying the story. The caption read Jackson Rippner, but since the figure was mid-breaststroke and was wearing goggles, it was difficult to tell if he was the same man she had fired a gun at.

Lisa couldn't help but smile a little at the idea of the cold man who had shoved her up against a bathroom wall with his fingers wrapped around her throat being a small hometown boy, a swimming hero. She giggled softly, imagining him walking through the hallways of his high school in a letter jacket, some blonde cheerleader on his arm. _It's better than chess champion, I guess..._

She frowned a bit, remembering the summary accompanying the link. Caleb Rippner? She skimmed the story, reading about how Jackson Rippner, a senior at St. Croix High School in Roberts, Wisconsin, had helped lead the team to victory along with his brother Caleb, also a senior. Probably twins. She wondered if they were fraternal or identical. She couldn't help but shudder at the idea of two sets of those eyes in the world.

She pulled up the online directory and entered Caleb Rippner, leaving the rest of the fields blank. It was a long shot, but how many Caleb Rippners could there be in the country? Apparently, there was one. Caleb and Cheryl Rippner, 4326 Pheasant Ln, North Oaks, Minnesota. -She scribbled down the address and the 651-247-5439 phone number going with it. Minnesota was close to Wisconsin...it was possible. She shook her head. She was crazy if she thought Jackson was going to be that easy to find. It was probably a different Caleb, and even if it was the same Caleb, who was to say he would tell her how to find Jackson or if he would even know? Did she have any choice other than to try?

Lisa moved away from the computer and turned it off, grabbing her paper. She reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone before remembering that it was dead. She scowled. If the police had been able to find Jackson's dead cell phone in the SUV she had stolen, none of this would have happened. But as luck would have it, the phone had mysteriously vanished. Of course. She figured Jackson must have grabbed it before he confronted her in the house, but good luck convincing the authorities of that. They said they found no cell phone on "Jim Richards" and chalked it up to one more lie.

Lisa walked over to the library pay phone instead, pulling money from her purse. She dropped change into the machine and dialed the number. She leaned against the wall with her head dropped as she listened to the phone ring, the bill of her Yankees cap covering her head.

Internally, she crossed every finger and toe and prayed to any God that might exist that someone would answer on the other line and give her the information that she wanted. She couldn't even let herself think of the odds as the phone rang again. And again. And-

"Hello?" A familiar voice on the other end pulled Lisa from her despair and simultaneously sent a shiver through her spine. So close, yet not quite.

"Um...yes," she stuttered, trying to get a grip, "I'm looking for Caleb Rippner, please."

"Who is this?" the voice asked, slight suspicion in his voice. He probably thought she was a telemarketer or something, but she knew who he was. The voice she was talking definitely belonged to someone related to Jackson.

"This is Lisa Reisert." Silence. "I was wondering if you could help me find Jackson, Mr. Rippner."

"I'm sorry, Miss Reisert," the voice replied after a short pause, obviously shaken. "I think you have the wrong number. Good-bye."

"No, wait!" Lisa choked into the phone, bobbing as her knees almost gave out from under her. She knew she was right, and this man was the only one who could help her now. She clutched the phone with both hands. "My dad is dead! Keefe is after me because of your brother, and I know it sounds stupid, but I need his help! I don't want to hurt him or get revenge..." She was talking quickly and frantically, but still trying to stay quiet to avoid attracting attention. "I just need his help. Please." A tear streaked down her cheek on the last word as she pleaded with this man to give her what she needed.

"Look, Leese," the man replied with a frustrated sigh after another moment of silence. Lisa's eyes lit up at the familiar nickname. He had spoken to Jackson! How else would he know the name? Maybe he would help her after all. "I don't know what you're talking about or how I can help-" Lisa let out a small sob of despair. No, he wasn't going to help her. "-but if you're running from the government, I would recommend you get rid of your cell phone."

Lisa cocked her head to the side. She reached in her purse, fingering her cell phone before dropping it in the trash can next to her. "I did," she managed, her voice meek.

"Good girl," he soothed, and Lisa felt that same pang of familiarity. "Now, _I_ can't help you...but Greyhound might be able to." With that, the line went dead. Lisa softly set the receiver back on its cradle. She offered silent word of thanks to the gods and headed for the door, slipping the paper with Caleb's address and phone number into her jeans. She walked to the SUV in the parking lot and grabbed the duffel bag from the backseat containing her recent purchases. She locked the SUV doors and tossed the keys onto the driver's seat before shutting them inside. She glanced behind her to make sure no one was watching before heading down the street.

Lisa stopped at the first ATM she could find and withdrew $200 at a time until she had $2000 in her hand. She hailed a taxi, directing him to the Greyhound station. She didn't dare withdraw more money at the ATM, not wanting the feds to be able trace her directly to the station.

She purchased a ticket to St Paul and boarded the bus. She would be in Minnesota by tomorrow. She had no idea where North Oaks even was, but she was sure once she got to the state, it couldn't be that hard to find. She had made it far enough that getting from one town to another seemed like such a non issue.

Lisa took a seat on the very back of the bus, trying to blend in completely with her background. She dropped her bag next to her, hoping that the bus wouldn't fill up and no one would be sitting next to her. She wasn't stupid; she knew her face was all over the news. Her prayers were answered when the bus pulled away and the seat was still empty except for her bag. _Why don't I feel any better?_

Maybe she was stupid. She was trapping herself on a bus for a cross country trip. She could be recognized at any point, and she would have nowhere to run. She gritted her teeth, reminding herself that she had no other choice. It was becoming her mantra:_ I. Have. No. Choice._

Lisa spent the first few hours of her trip staring blankly outside the window. _This is a bad idea._..With nothing to keep her mind focused, she could only hold off reality for so long. She pressed her head against the window, fighting to hold back her tears. It was a losing battle, so she settled for keeping the tears silent.

Her dad was dead. She was on a goddamn bus headed for a city she never heard of in a state she had never been in to meet the brother of the man who had used her in an attempted assassination and beg him to help her find the monster himself. She couldn't use her bank account anymore. She had no job, so there was no way to make more money. She had no car, no escape route. And her shoulder was getting worse.

She brought her hand up to her shoulder, regretting it instantly. She had grabbed it harder than she intended, and the pain seared through her arm. She had to see a doctor.

Lisa let out a small laugh. There was no way she could go to a hospital. The laughter was humorless though, as the fear that she would end up losing her arm kept nagging the back of her mind. The last time she wrapped it, it was obvious the wound was infected. _Stop thinking about it!_

She squeezed her eyes shut, praying for sleep. After what felt like days, it finally came.

Lisa woke with a violent jerk. She felt the air conditioned air of the bus chilling her wet cheeks. She had been crying even in her sleep. She couldn't remember her dreams. All she knew is that she still felt the residual terror.

Another lifetime of anxiety and fear passed, and the bus pulled into a station. They had arrived in St. Paul. Finally.

Lisa grabbed her bag and got off the bus as quickly as she could. She raced to a pay phone, pulling the paper from her jeans. Her arm was throbbing worse than it ever had. She dialed the number, holding her breath. What if there was no answer? What if she had misinterpreted Caleb's words, and he actually wasn't going to do anything for her? What if Jackson wouldn't help her? She started reciting the words to "Yellow Submarine" in her head- she couldn't allow herself to think about the what if?s at this point.

_We all live in a yellow-_

"Hello?" A woman's voice this time. Lisa bit down on her tongue to prevent herself from blurting out "submarine."

"Um...is this...Cheryl?" she croaked out, her voice raspy.

"Is this Lisa?" the voice replied, her tone brisk yet polite. Lisa almost dropped the phone.

"Yes, yes it is. I'm in St. Paul...at the Greyhound station." Lisa had no idea what else to say after that. Luckily, Cheryl was some sort of mind reader.

"I'll come get you. Walk to the McDonald's. It should be right down the street. Get yourself some food, and I'll be there in a black Explorer. Okay, honey?" Lisa let out a sigh of relief laced with a sob. The woman's now warm tone and unexpected kindness was exactly what she needed at this moment.

"Thank you," she whispered, setting the phone back in the cradle. She made her way out of the station and immediately wanted to run back inside. The cold air bit through her sweatshirt almost instantly, but she couldn't even wrap her arms around herself for warmth. She could barely move her shoulder. As she walked, though, she realized that it was probably a good thing. The longer she walked, the more numb she became until she couldn't even feel her shoulder. _Actually, that's probably not such a great thing._

She stumbled into the McDonald's, ordering a Big Mac meal. Even as she ordered, she felt like she would probably throw up as soon as the food touch her lips. She hated fast food, and McDonald's was the worst.

Lisa surprised herself by devouring the meal as soon as she sat down. When she was done, she didn't even remember how it had tasted or what it had even looked like. She lifted her head to look out the window, suddenly remembering why she was there. No SUV. She gathered up her trash with one arm, carrying her tray to the bin.

_And our friends are all aboard,_

_Many more of them live next door,_

_And the band begins to play._

Black SUV! Lisa slung her bag over her shoulder, rushing outside. The woman in the SUV eyed Lisa cautiously before slowly leaning over and opening the passenger door. Lisa slid into the car and pulled the door shut.

"Cheryl...thank you so much," Cheryl waved her hand dismissively as she drove down the street.

"Not necessary," she interrupted. She glanced at Lisa, "but you're welcome, of course." She smiled warmly. "You look like hell." Lisa said nothing, shifting in her seat. "I guess it's not a surprise, though. I'm assuming you haven't showered in a few days." Lisa shook her head. "Well, you can have one when we get to the house. And I'll get you some real food, alright?" Lisa nodded, sighing in relief. Things were finally looking up.

"How's Jackson?" she murmured after a few minutes of silence, staring out the window to keep from making eye contact with Cheryl.

The brunette sighed. "He's alive. Recovering well." She smirked. "Still can't talk much." Lisa turned her head, catching Cheryl's eye. She couldn't help but giggle softly.

"I had to," she insisted, sobering up again. Cheryl nodded.

"He knows." Lisa's eyes widened.

"He's not mad at me?" she asked. Cheryl laughed again.

"Oh, he is. But I know he understands it. You do what you have to in our profession." Lisa frowned.

"I'm not in..." she paused. "You do what he does?" Cheryl shook her head.

"Not anymore," she replied.

"But-"

"We talk more later," Cheryl interrupted, pulling into a driveway. She turned to Lisa as the garage door shut behind the car. "Jackson is staying in the basement. He doesn't know you're here. We're putting you on the third floor. Stay there for a while, okay?" She smiled warmly, opening her door. "It'll be alright."

Lisa frowned as she got out of the car. "Should I be here?" she asked. Cheryl wasn't making her relax anymore. She felt more uncomfortable than ever. _Yellow Submarine...yellow submarine..._

Cheryl shrugged, but didn't turn around. "Do you have any choice?" She asked, leading Lisa into house and up the stairs. Lisa glanced back at the living room carpet as she followed Cheryl, her heart rate quickening with each step. She didn't know what scared her more- the idea that just beyond that floor was the man with the piercing blue eyes who had lied to her, manipulated her, and then tried to kill her, or the fact that her life was now in his hands.

* * *

**Sorry it took me so long to post this. It's a filler chapter, and I was struggling to write it. I still hate it, but it has to be posted so the next chapter can be written and Jackson can finally join the fun! R&R- ConCrit welcome, but try not to be as harsh as this chappy ****probably deserves. :)**


	4. Minnesoter

**Chapter 4: Minnesoter**

Lisa stared at the walls as Cheryl lead her down a hallway. This place was amazing. Did the family come from money? She tried to picture Jackson as a silver spoon kid, still playing her game. Thinking of Jackson meant not thinking about her dad, her arm, or the general situation. "Yellow Submarine" ran out of lyrics while they were on the third floor, which didn't really matter because she stupidly shifted her bag, which jostled her arm and made her hiss in pain, making her forget her game.

Cheryl stopped in her tracks and made her turn around. "Looks like we're going to see Caleb first," she said knowingly.

"Why?" Lisa replied, confused.

"He'll fix that arm. Bullet?" Lisa furrowed her eyebrows. She had never met anyone like this family. The woman could somehow tell she was injured, seemed to know exactly from what, and said it all like she was asking if Lisa preferred Coke or Pepsi. "He's a doctor," Cheryl continued, leading Lisa back down to the second floor. "He should make you good as new."

Cheryl walked into a room and turned to look at Lisa. "He should be right in. I think he's downstairs with Jackson right now." She headed out, and turned back. "Do you want anything to drink?"

"Maybe just a water?" Lisa asked, sheepish. "Um...Cheryl? I'm really grateful that you and Caleb are letting me stay here."

Cheryl's smile stretched thin. "Of course," she replied, suddenly colder than she had been. She walked out quickly, leaving a bewildered Lisa. _Did I say something wrong?_

Lisa dropped carefully into a chair. She wanted to sleep. Or wake up. Either would work at this point. The room was starting to rock, like she was on a ship, and she had to close her eyes to block out both the red dots scattering across her vision and the feeling of nausea that the movement was giving her.

"Lisa?" The redhead's eyes snapped open at that voice. Not him, but Jesus, it looked like him. Her green eyes widened to the size of saucers when she took in the man before her. Same eyes, same chiseled jaw, but the brown hair was shorter. His face was softer. She let out an involuntary whimper of fear as he approached her, and pushed back in her chair. This caused her to moan in pain, her eyes screwing shut.

This man wasn't Jackson, but close enough to bring the terror rushing back. His hands on her throat, the look of pure rage and hatred in his eyes, the knife in his hand. She could see it clear as day, each image of that night flashing through her mind in no particular order, and she battled to keep the tears at bay.

"...shirt on underneath?" She was snapped back into reality when she realized that Caleb was talking to her. He was kneeling in front of her now, and she quickly realized that he didn't smell like Jackson. Jackson had smelled of cologne, whiskey, and power. This man smelled more natural- a faint trace of soap and cigarettes. This surprisingly calmed her, and she cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry..." Lisa said softly as it occurred to her that Caleb was waiting for a response. "I didn't..."

Caleb smiled warmly. "I said that I''ll need you to remove your sweatshirt so I can look at your arm. Do you have another shirt on underneath?" She shook her head meekly. "Alright, but you still need to get that sweatshirt off. Can you lift your arm?" Another small shake. She couldn't move it at all. Caleb sighed. "Okay, I think we'll have to cut it off. Are you okay with that?"

Lisa hesitated. Ever since her attack, she had only been to female doctors. She didn't feel comfortable with men seeing her exposed, and it definitely didn't help that this man just so happened to look like the man who had given her a whole new kind of violation. But he wasn't Jackson. He was a doctor. And her arm hurt too badly for her to be hung up on the sex of a person who could fix it. She nodded, and allowed Caleb to cut a line down the front of her hoodie, pulling the sleeve over her arm.

Caleb removed the bandages, frowning. "This isn't going to be pleasant," he said, looking her arm over. "The wound hasn't been cleaned properly, and it's definitely infected. The bullet isn't deep enough to require surgery, but it looks like it has wormed its way down. I can get it out with a tweezers, but it's going to be extremely painful and I only have a local anesthetic...it can only help so much."

Lisa sighed in frustration. "Aren't you treating Jackson?" She quieted when she said his name and her eyes widened again. "I mean-"

Caleb held up a hand in understanding. "No, it's fine. I have been giving him anesthesia, but we can only use what we had in the ambulance and it ran out. I can't very well go taking it from work, now can I?" He gave her another warm smile. "Ready?"

Lisa nodded. What choice did she have? She whimpered slightly when Caleb injected the needle into her arm, but when he started to pry the bullet, she let out a sharp cry. When Caleb gave her a stern look, she bit down hard on her lip, breaking the fragile skin. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks, and she couldn't help but squirm in her chair.

"You know," Caleb said soothingly as he worked the tweezers, "you're a brave woman." Lisa shook her head, her eyes twisted shut and her teeth still clamped on her lips. She heard him chuckle. "Don't give me that shit. I don't remember that last person who came out on top against my brother. You came here despite the fact that DHS is trying to hunt you down-"

"I don't mean to put you-" she gasped out, but Caleb interrupted her.

"That's not what I mean. They won't find you here, and Cheryl and I aren't worried about them. I mean that you made it this far and with everything that happened...and you're just someone in the wrong place at the wrong time, with the wrong job." He chuckled again. "Ah, and here we are-" Lisa heard the clink of metal on metal, and knew the bullet was out. She opened her eyes. "Now, let's just work on getting this wound healed." He winked playfully. "Who knows? Maybe you'll keep the arm."

Lisa released her poor lower lip and allowed her breathing to steady again as Caleb began dabbing with alcohol. His actions stung like crazy, but it was like a mild sunburn compared to the last few days.

"Um...how is he?" she asked nervously, avoiding eye contact.

"Mad as hell. He still needs rest, and his voice is kind of shot, but he should be ranting and raving again in a day or so. It hasn't been a picnic, let me tell you." Caleb tossed the bloody pads into a bucket sitting on the floor, and reached into his bag. "I need to give you another shot. Antibiotics to help with the infection." Lisa nodded. As much as she hated to admit it, she was started to feel at ease with Caleb. He reminded her of the Tex Mex Jackson, before he had become Manager Jackson. She sat in silence as he continued talking.

"The biggest problem was blood loss. We had to do a blood transfusion." Caleb snorted in amusement. "Looked like an episode of MASH in the basement. I mean, I'm his blood type, but Cheryl and I had to do the transfusions ourselves with some pretty basic equipment. We were successful, but it was a little touch and go." Another laugh, and a sting when she felt the shot in her arm. "You're a hell of a woman, but a lousy shot."

Lisa smiled as he went into the details of Jackson's injuries. She realized that she had been wrong. Caleb was Tex Mex Jackson on crack. They had just met, he was fixing a bullet wound, his brother had almost died, and here he was going on and on like they were friends who hadn't seen each other in a while. She also realized that her pain had started to substantially subside. She tiled her head. Two brothers. One seemed to be a very gifted doctor, and the other a cold blooded killer.

"Lisa?" She snapped into reality again upon hearing his tone straighten up, "What exactly do you think we can do for you?" She blushed, dropping her eyes to watch him bandage the wound.

"Um, I didn't know what else to do," she admitted softly, "I have no idea what I'm supposed to do, Caleb. I though that since Jackson was able to-" she cut herself off, frowning. "How _did_ he get here? He was taken off in an ambulance, and Keefe's men think he's dead." Caleb shrugged.

"I don't think you want to know," was all he said. Lisa was going to ask another question, but was cut off when the door opened.

"Caleb? What the _hell_ is _she_ doing here?"


	5. She Belongs to Me

**You guys are great! No harsh flames for taking a year and half to continue this story. To be honest, I was just driving when "Blood and Roses" started playing on my iPod and I was like "dammit, I will finish just ONE story." Thanks to everyone who reviewed- you are the fuel that pushes me to keep working at this story!**

**Also, good news- we're _finally_ getting into the meat of the story. Well, maybe the yummy baked potato before the meat. No more filler, at least for a while. :D**

* * *

**Chapter 5: She Belongs to Me**

Lisa froze. Caleb continued his ministrations with barely a hitch.

"Well?" the raspy voice hissed. Lisa held her breath, unsure of what to say or if she even could say anything at this point.

"Oh shut up," Caleb said, not turning around, "I told you not to speak unless it was necessary."

"Oh, this is -"

"No, it isn't," Caleb interrupted calmly. "She's here because she asked to come, and I said yes. That's all that matters right now. That, and her arm. What are you doing here, anyway?" Jackson scowled, lingering in the doorway.

"I heard a scream. Thought there was trouble." He finally made eye contact with Lisa, who immediately cast her eyes to the ground. _Oh god oh god oh god... _"What happened?" She glanced up and saw Jackson eying her arm in the same way he had eyed her scar a week and a half ago. She suddenly was very aware that half of her torso was exposed and quickly grabbed the remaining front half of her hoodie, yanking it the rest of the way across her chest.

She frowned. Why was she cowering in fear from this man? She had put him in critical condition, and it wasn't like he was in top shape yet. She was the one who came here, the one who was sitting in his brother's office, and she couldn't very well ignore him or get rid of him.

When Caleb said nothing, Lisa cleared her throat. It occurred to her that she never got her water, but she dismissed the thought almost immediately. "I...um...got shot." A familiar dark look clouded Jackson's face, but he cleared it quickly and raised his eyebrows instead.

"Always getting into trouble, Leese. Popular girl." Lisa scowled at him.

"By Keefe's men, _Mr. Richards_," she spat, "and my dad is dead." Caleb fastened the bandage, and rose to his feet, turning to face Jackson. He placed a hand on Lisa's shoulder, keeping her in place.

Jackson stood for a moment, stunned. "And what does that have to do with me?" he finally asked.

"Stop," Caleb cut in, advancing toward Jackson. He crossed his arms, standing in Jackson's path to Lisa, but not blocking their view of each other. "I'm letting her stay here, just like I let you stay. We will discuss what happens next later. For now, I want you both to finish recovering."

The room was silent. Lisa and Jackson stared at each other, and Caleb watched Jackson. For her part, Lisa was caught between wanting to tear her gaze away and missing those blue eyes so badly. _Why? _Why was she so drawn to him? She didn't get off on being a victim- she had never had anything but contempt for her rapist. And yet here she was, still being pulled into those damned eyes.

She bit down on her sore lip. It looked like she was going to be here for a while at least. And this little standoff was definitely not the place to start analyzing her feelings again.

Jackson scowled and stormed back down the hallway. Caleb turned back to face her, that same warm smile instantly back on his face.

"Thanks," she said to him, smiling weakly. Caleb shrugged.

"What's he going to do? Fight me?" Caleb fastened the bandage. "Alright, you're free to go. I should probably go talk to him, but I think I'll let him sulk for a while." He winked. "Rest up. Looks like you could use it." Caleb exited the office, leaving Lisa alone.

Lisa didn't move for a moment. She was suddenly aware of a stench in the room. Caleb must have been canceling it out with his own scent, and had been nice enough not to comment on it. She grimaced. _Oh God...it's me._ She glanced down at her bandage and then at her good arm, feeling like an invalid. She knew she couldn't get the bandage wet, and showering with one arm was going to be a pain in the ass. As would dressing. And undressing. Jesus, how did Jackson manage this?

Lisa stood up, rolling her eyes. Obviously, either Caleb or Cheryl (probably Caleb) helped him with these things. She began walking back to the stairs, feeling very out of place. Wasn't anyone going to help her? Wasn't she a guest? _How about a little appreciation, you baby?_ She flushed, walking up the stairs. She stopped, realizing that Cheryl had never shown her which room would be hers.

_Fuck._ She backed into the wall and slid down, falling over sideways onto her good arm. And it was in the hallway of the house belonging to the brother of her tormentor that Lisa let herself cry. This was it. No more game. No Miami. No dad. No freedom. No _home_. And why? Because she worked at a hotel that just happened to be visited by one Homeland Security secretary who just happened to be the target of assassins. To say it wasn't fair was a massive understatement.

Lisa rotated her body slowly to bury her face in the carpet as her sobs grew louder and started to rack her small frame. She curled into a fetal-like position. Her dad was _innocent_. All he had ever done "wrong" was love her and support her! Always concerned about her- often rightly so- and always wanting her to be happy. Buying her self-help books and-

"Lisa!" She froze as Cheryl quickly approached her, kneeling. She quickly choked on her sobs, beginning to cough violently. She felt the other woman carefully lift her up to sit against the wall. She eagerly took the water bottle that was offered, downing the cold liquid.

She drank too quickly and started to cough violently when some water went down her windpipe. For a few seconds, it was a struggle not to vomit the water and the McDonald's all over the rug. She succeeded, and once she regained her voice, she found herself babbling. "I didn't know where you wanted me to stay, I don't know how to shower, I smell so bad, I haven't brushed my teeth, my arm hurts, I hate bay breezes..." She hardly noticed Cheryl carefully pulling her to her feet, leading her down the hallway.

Lisa continued to ramble, as Cheryl moved her into a bedroom, but she felt like she was just making noises at this point. She stupidly flung herself on the bed and let out a pained scream when her arm made contact. When she had finally calmed down, she rolled over and saw Cheryl sitting in a chair, watching her with concern.

"You have to calm down," Cheryl stated. She motioned to the bag next to her. "I went out and got you some clothes that will be easy to put on and take off with one arm. As for showering, I can help you with that." She smiled at Lisa's embarrassed expression. "No, not like that. I'm not going to bathe you. I can help you cover the bandage so it won't get wet. I would recommend a bath instead of a shower, though. It's good for the soul."

Lisa smiled weakly. "A bath sounds great," she managed. She allowed Cheryl to lead her to the bathroom and sat on the toilet lid while the other woman began to draw a bath.

"So," Cheryl began, dropping bath salts into the warm water, "what's your plan?" Lisa pulled off the rest of the hoodie and dropped her head into her good hand.

"Caleb and Jackson already asked me," she murmured, "If I had a plan, I wouldn't be here." She looked at Cheryl, wiping her eyes. "I'm in over my head. I have no idea what to do next. I thought maybe you guys could help me." Cheryl nodded, rising to her feet.

"I figured, and so did Caleb. Give us time, and we should be able to come up with a plan together. With Jackson." Lisa wasn't sure how much help Jackson would be, but she said nothing about it.

"Thank you," she replied. She glanced at Cheryl, noticing that the other woman was looking at her scar. When Cheryl realized that Lisa was watching her, she raised her head back up. There was questioning in her eyes, but she asked nothing. She silently began to wrap Lisa's arm in the plastic wrap she had brought with her, sealing both ends to Lisa's skin with duct tape to keep out the water.

"Relax and enjoy yourself as much as you can," she said, sounding an awful lot like Caleb. Lisa smiled gratefully and thanked her. She quickly but quietly locked the door when Cheryl was gone and awkwardly removed the rest of her clothes.

The redhead couldn't help but moan in pleasure when she submerged herself in the warm water, remembering to keep her arm hanging over the edge of the tub. She knew that the bandage was waterproofed, but it probably wasn't a good idea to keep it underwater for a prolonged period of time.

_Alright Reisert, forget the damn game. Let's try approaching this with calm logic. Your dad is dead. It can't be fixed, so you canNOT dwell on it. He died saving you, so do him and yourself the favor of keeping yourself saved. The US government wants you dead. You have disappeared off the grid- no cell phone, no credit cards, no ID. You are now completely dependent on Caleb and Cheryl, and maybe Jackson. _

Lisa winced. As hard as it would be, she knew that she had to make nice with Jackson. He definitely wouldn't help her if she kept snapping at him.

She couldn't figure out the Rippners. Caleb was a real paradox. Warm and friendly, a healer, but he had gone completely cold when rebuking Jackson and when she had asked how Jackson was alive. And when Cheryl had said "our profession", was she talking about herself and Jackson? Herself, Caleb, and Jackson? She couldn't imagine Caleb the doctor as a life-taking assassin. Of course, she had the same thought about Jackson when he first told her. _With everything that's happened in the last eleven days, is it really so hard to believe that Caleb had worked with Jackson? Is he still working with him?_

And what about Cheryl? Sometimes she was kind, and sometimes stern, and Lisa had no idea what triggered the switch. She seemed to be the practical one, and comfort was not her forte. It was much easier to imagine Cheryl as some kind of hitman...woman.

Lisa smiled weakly. The pieces were starting to fall into place. Cheryl was the practical one, probably a "good dog," as Jackson would say. Caleb was the warm one, and probably not as good at following orders. Jackson was...the brains. The gorgeous, brilliant manager.

_Jackson. Why can't I stop thinking about him like he is still Tex Mex Jackson? He was never Tex Mex Jackson. It was a lie._

_He never lied to you._

_Or was he lying about that?_

After her bath, Lisa crept back to her room, wrapped in a robe that Cheryl had left for her. In the room, she opened the bag and found a pair of yoga pants along with a tank top. Slipping into both items, she crept under the blankets and curled into a tight ball, easily falling asleep.

* * *

Lisa opened her eyes, glancing around. It was still light out when she went to bed, but now it was completely dark. What time was it? What had woken her? She froze when she felt the side of the bed behind her dip from the weight of a body. It was focused on one spot, indicating that the person was only sitting. Sitting a mere couple of inches from her back. That knowledge wasn't much comfort.

"J-Jackson?" she whispered, not turning around.

"Mhm," came the reply. Her heart rate began to quicken, and she gasped when she felt his fingertips barely graze her arm. He never had been very good at respecting personal bubbles. She whimpered softly when she felt his fingers on her bandage, carefully sliding along the edge where the material met skin. "Relax. I'm not going to hurt you. Tonight, anyway. Maybe tomorrow." She heard the smirk in his voice. Unsurprisingly, she did not relax.

"Everyone is telling me to relax," she murmured, still staring at the wall. "This is all your fault. I blame you."

"Why? Everything would have been fine if you had just done what I said." His fingers left her arm, leaving her skin surprisingly cool. He didn't say the rest, but she heard it. _Your dad would still be alive._

"You think I killed him, don't you?" she said, her voice breaking.

"No. Keefe's men killed him," Jackson replied. With that, Lisa started to break all over again. Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to make a sound. She had cried enough in front of Jackson Rippner.

"What else could I do? Let Keefe die? Let his wife and children..." she trailed off, knowing full well that she had given away her current state. "It was my fault. I attacked one of the agents, and my dad pushed me out of the way."

"We all do what we have to do," came the cold reply. It was odd. Jackson was hardly being comforting, but Lisa felt like he was trying to ease her guilt in his own way.

"The bullet Caleb took out came from my dad's body," she whimpered. "He died right in front of me." She sniffled. "Why am I telling you these things?"

"I have no idea." Both were silent. Jackson resumed tracing the bandage on her arm. Lisa turned her head to press her face against the pillow. She knew why. It was sick, but it had already occurred to her that the Rippners were all she had, and of the three of them, she had the strongest connection with Jackson, of all people.

He had been right. Her life had revolved around work. No friends, apart from maybe Cynthia. But Cynthia was more of an acquaintance, among a few others. They didn't know Lisa. Jackson seemed to, somehow. And she had no idea who he was.

"Your voice sounds a lot better," she said to break the silence as she lifted her face from the pillow, resuming her wall staring. And it was- almost good as new. "I thought you aren't supposed to talk." Jackson scoffed, but said nothing. "I need your help." It was barely a whisper, but she seemed to get his attention. He grabbed her chin and yanked her around to face him.

"And why I should help you?" he hissed. Lisa squirmed under his touch, trying to get away while not dropping her weight to her other arm. "You got yourself into this mess."

"Because I didn't try to kill Keefe. You did. You can't let me take the fall for it." Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and she saw him raise an eyebrow in...well, she couldn't really tell what he was feeling. Amusement?

"And yet, here we are." When she said nothing, he released her chin and flung her back onto her side. "But I'll consider it." Lisa tried to yank her bandaged arm away when she felt Jackson unhook the clasp, but he held her fast with the other hand.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, fear in her voice again. He had just said that he wouldn't hurt her!

"Looking," he replied, slowly unwrapping the bandage and removing the pad. After what seemed like an eternity, he spoke again. "Hold still." Lisa gasped when she felt him press a cloth to her wound. Not because it hurt, but because she expected it to hurt a lot more. He was being surprisingly gentle as he pressed a newly sterile pad to the wound and began to wrap it back up again. Was this really the same man who threw her down a flight of stairs? "Needs to be changed regularly," he said as he finished, clasping the material in place. "They left one hell of a mark."

"Why do you care?" she asked bitterly. She was still hurt that he didn't say that he would help. Not because she expected him to, but because there was a small part of her that hoped he would make it easier on her and _want_ to. She closed her eyes when she sensed him lean forward. He pressed his lips to her ear, and she felt his warm breath on her face. It was familiar, but not exactly comforting.

"_Because, Leese- I am the only one who gets to hurt you."_

Then he was gone, leaving Lisa alone again.

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**How was my Jackson? In character? OOC to the point of insanity? R&R and I. Won't. Do. It. (reference to the "like mah status" Youtube video).**

**Oh, also: how do you think Jackson escaped? I have my own idea all ready to come to light later, but I'm just kind of curious as to if anyone has theories. :)**


	6. You Like Me Too Much

**Alright, my darling readers! Another update, just for you. :) Thanks to those of you who did take the time to review: trudes193, Jesscah, Medisha, I Am the Batman Dag Nab It (great name, by the way), Brunette bulma (DBZ forever), and son-of-puji. It's been said a thousand times, but it's the reviews that help an author keep writing. You guys all get heart candy from me. If you're wondering how I found your addresses, well, it's my secret. :)**

**Here's a little JacksonxLisa conflict for you guys:**

* * *

**Chapter 6: You Like Me Too Much**

"Goddamn it!" Lisa hissed, throwing the roll of saran wrap to the floor. She was trying to wrap her arm so she could take a shower, but she couldn't get the wrap to stick to her arm. She looked in the mirror, running her fingers through her short curls. Cheryl had been kind enough to fix her hair the night before, making it look like a little less of a deranged hack job. The other woman had also dyed her hair a dark shade of brown, which Lisa actually loved.

She had been at the Rippners' for two days. She hadn't seen much of Jackson or Caleb- just Cheryl. Being in the house was still awkward for her. Cheryl had told her she was welcome to come down to the main floor when she was hungry, or if she wanted to socialize, or if she needed help with something.

Even with permission, Lisa was still uncomfortable. She had stayed in her room for the most part yesterday, coming down to eat (alone) and only interacting with anyone when Cheryl came upstairs to fix her hair and to change her dressing. Not much was said between them. Caleb was in and out of the house, and had only checked her once. Not much was said during the visit; it was strictly business. Lisa had no idea what Jackson had been up to since he left her room.

The new brunette placed a hand on her stomach as the growling reached her ears. Maybe she should eat first, and then worry about the shower. She made her way down the stairs, happily inhaling the smell of bacon that permeated her senses.

"Morning, Cheryl," she greeted as she walked into the kitchen. She halted in her tracks.

"Not here," Jackson replied, not taking his eyes from a newspaper that was resting on the counter. Lisa nodded hesitantly, looking around the kitchen. If Caleb was gone again, it meant that she was alone with Jackson.

"Are you going to hurt me today?" she blurted out, and was surprised to hear how condescending her words came out. Jackson looked up at her, smirking.

"Maybe tomorrow." He resumed his reading. _Good night, Westley. Sleep well. Good work. I'll most likely kill you in the morning._

"Comforting." Lisa muttered, walking to the fridge. She was dying for scrambled eggs with toast, and the smell of Jackson's food wasn't helping. She glanced at the wall clock. 11:00. Looks like Jackson was on as odd a sleep schedule as she was- breakfast for lunch.

"When will she be back?"Jackson shrugged.

"Around 6. She's at work. Tired of being the housewife, I guess. Or maybe tired of being a servant."

Lisa nodded, cracking two eggs open into the pan. Her arm was doing better than she expected. It was still stiff and sore, but it was completely usable. It was mostly itching like crazy, which she had always heard meant that it was healing. Looks like Caleb was right- she could keep it.

"I'll change your bandage after you shower."

Lisa slid her eggs onto a plate, grabbing her toast from the toaster. "Do I smell that bad?" she asked, buttering the toast.

"Yes." _Ouch._

"Well, I'm not taking one until Cheryl gets back." she said, sitting down at the counter with her plate.

Jackson smirked. "I had no idea you were into that," he mused, actually breaking from what must have been a fascinating story to look at her. Lisa blushed and narrowed her eyes.

"Yeah Jackson. I get off on Cheryl weilding plastic wrap. Really gets me going," she shot back, and spoke very rapidly, embarrassed, "I'm just having trouble wrapping my bandage. Don't want it to get wet."

Jackson took a bite of his eggs. "I'll wrap it." Lisa shook her head, and Jackson rolled his eyes. "You can either suck it up and let me help you, do it yourself, or sulk around until Cheryl or Caleb get back." He closed his paper and turned his attention back on her. "Well?"

Lisa shrugged. It wasn't like she was asking him to take a shower with her. He had already changed the dressing once, and this wasn't any different. "Fine," she resigned, chewing on her toast. "What does Cheryl do?"

Jackson smirked. "She works for Fresh Air," he said pointedly, waiting for her to make the connection.

Lisa was mostly unfazed. "So that's how you got a seat next to mine. I had wondered about that." It wasn't the only thing that she wondered about. "How did you get away?"

"You always underestimate me," was all he said.

Lisa swallowed hard. There was something that had been nagging her since the Greyhound ride, and she wasn't sure that she wanted to know the answer. She ate in silence for a few minutes, stealing glances at Jackson. He was still reading his paper, and almost seemed to forget that she was there.

"You were always planning on me taking the fall, weren't you?" she finally asked. Jackson turned to look at her, furrowing his eyebrows but remaining quiet. She continued, "If Keefe had died, it was me that authorized the change. I couldn't very well say that you made me, because I did that now and they think I'm lying."

Jackson's face hardened, and he stood up. "That is the dumbest question that you have asked since we met, Leese." He grabbed her good arm, pulling her from her chair and leading her up the stairs. "I have told you and _told you_ that if you would have just listened to me, things would have been fine." Lisa tried to pull her arm free, but Jackson yanked it harder. "But no, you had to be the hero." He looked back at her, the cold manager look in his eyes, "I get it, Leese. You needed redemption for what happened to you with that last asshole, but you picked the wrong man to fuck with."

Lisa tried to interject, but he wasn't done. "The feds would have had no problem believing you before you shoved a goddamn pen in my throat and stole a car like some kind of psycho." Lisa stumbled, but Jackson kept his grip and pace, which was making it hard to stay on her feet.

"Let go!" she managed to cry out, trying to dig her heels. This time she hit the ground, but Jackson pulled her right back up and kept moving.

"If you would have just _made the call _and_ shut up _about it, you wouldn't be here, and I wouldn't be here." Even in her struggle, Lisa noticed that he avoided mentioning her dad again. He shoved her into the bathroom and pushed his face in close to hers. "And you _dare_ accuse me of trying to set _you _up. They would have put on a manhunt for Jim Richards, but by then, I would have been on my way back to New York under a completely different name, and you would be _fine._"

"I'm sorry," Lisa replied in irritation, using her arm to push him back. She wasn't sure what else to say, and she was getting tired of getting thrown around by him. Jackson put his hand on her face and turned her back to face him.

"Stop being so weak, Leese. You did what you thought was right. It was female-driven of course, but then..." he dropped his gaze, scanning her figure quickly. "That's to be expected. Just don't accuse me of setting up an innocent person." Was it Lisa's imagination, or did he sound a little hurt? He pushed Lisa onto the toilet lid and took a step back, retrieving the discarded saran wrap from the floor.

"W-why did you give me your real name?" Lisa asked hesitantly as he wrapped her bandage. She didn't want to set him off again. Jackson exhaled sharply through his nose, clenching his jaw tightly.

"How many times do I have to say that I never lie to you?"

She shook her head. "No, I know. I just- why don't you lie to me? You lie to lots of people."

Jackson shrugged. "When it serves me, I lie. When it doesn't, I don't. It doesn't serve me to lie to you." Lisa smiled humorlessly.

"For now," she said, watching him grab the duct tape.

"For now," he repeated. He sealed the saran wrap and looked up at her. There was no anger in his eyes, only a familiar emotion that Lisa couldn't place. She had seen it many times during their flight, but was too preoccupied to think much about it. The two fell silent for a few moments, staring at each other. Lisa realized in frustration that she just couldn't read him, and broke the eye contact.

Jackson got to his feet. "I'll be in the basement when you want me to change your bandage." He walked out, leaving Lisa to wonder what the hell that was about. What was behind that look?

She removed her clothes and stepped under the warm water. She watched the water run down her body, over the scar. _"Did someone do that to you?" _It hit her: _that's_where she had seen the look! In the bathroom, when he had asked her about the scar. Was that why she never went out, why she kept to herself? he had asked. She had lied, and told him no. His jaw had clenched, and that same look flashed in his eyes before he lost control. She had almost passed out before he finally released her and announced for the first time that he never lied to her, his voice bitter. It had almost sounded like he was his voice was breaking when he flung down the paper towels.

In the days that passed, she had wondered what exactly made him so angry. He hadn't snapped to that extent when he saw her mirror message, so she knew it probably wasn't that. Apparently, it was the lies, but lies about a scar that had nothing to do with him? Lies about what drink she preferred? In the grander scheme of things, those lies were nothing. Small lies. When she had pretended to continue talking to Cynthia after the phone dropped its signal, he had almost seemed impressed. Even when she left that message on the mirror, he had shoved her roughly against the wall and given her hell, but he had kept her head cushioned to prevent real pain. She had been scared, obviously, but not in real danger. No, it wasn't until she lied about her scar, a lie that affected his job in no way, that he physically threatened her life for the first time.

And she never understood it. Until now, and even now, she still didn't get it. There was obviously a connection. He had said more than once since she got here that people do what they have to do. She knew that he had been angry with her on that plane for leaving notes and trying to undermine him, but he obviously had expected some resistance. He probably thought of it as something that she thought she had to do. Even when he knocked her out to get the book back, he brought her aspirin for the massive headache she had. He had said it was because he needed her coherent, but aspirin wasn't going to have that effect.

Why had he lost control over a scar and some vodka? Why was he so offended that she thought he had set her up for Keefe's death? He was willing to kill her dad if she didn't cooperate, and he tried to kill her when she did screw up his plans. He had helped with the planned assassination of Keefe, who was a good man, not to mention his innocent wife and children. Why would he expect her to never think that he was planning on letting her take the fall? Even if everything had gone to plan, she still would have had purposely moved Keefe to the room where he was going to be killed. Why would they ever have just let her off?

Lisa thought about Jackson's expression when she had asked about Keefe's family. Did she imagine the hint of remorse in his face? The hard swallow that usually accompanied fighting off emotion? Were his eyes really more watery than usual? Hard to believe a man like Jackson getting choked up over the same event he had just helped put into play, unless he was a pawn like her. And she doubted that.

There was definitely something there, some unknown reason behind his actions in the bathroom and in that seat. The more she had thought about it, the more of a contradiction he was. When she had told him about the scar, he had listened without speaking for the first time that night, a look of what appeared to be concern in his eyes. When he had said that it was beyond her control, it wasn't a question. The inflection and the tone seemed more almost reassuring, like he could tell it still conflicted her and he was reminding her of the fact. She remembered, but still couldn't read his expression when she said that she would never let it happen again. Pity? Remorse?

And he had given her his real name. She knew it was probably stupid to focus on that, but it really seemed like an important fact. What if..._no what if's. _She shook her head. _No, what if it was a mistake? What if he never intended to introduce himself as Jackson Rippner, but he slipped up?_

_Why would he do that?_

_For the same reason that I came here even though he tried to kill me. He's drawn to me. For some unexplainable reason, despite the fact that he had to use me, he still cares. He wants me to know him. He wants to know me. He doesn't lie to me, and he doesn't want me to lie to him. And why did he even invite me to the bar? There was no reason for him to buy me a drink and chat me up. He would have gotten what he wanted anyway once we were in those seats._

Lisa froze mid-conditioning. It was true. There was no real reason for Jackson to talk to her at all before that flight. He hadn't been trying to seduce her into doing what he wanted. He hadn't needed her trust for anything. When they had been in that bathroom, he hadn't needed to get so close to her face and practically nuzzle her cheek with his nose as he strangled her. When they had been grappling in her bedroom, he could have broken her neck right there with his bare hands or actually strangled her to death, but he had hesitated. It was only when she had called him pathetic that he had thrown her down the stairs and continued his assault.

She recalled him telling her that he had watched her for two months before the flight. He seemed to have followed her everywhere- work, home, when she went out...was it conceivable that he _had_ developed some kind of attraction to her? Was that why she practically had to drag a physical fight out of him? Was that why he lost it over the small, personal lies? Was it why he gave her his real name and called her by a personal nickname?

_Jesus_...Lisa finished rinsing her hair and scrambled out of the shower. She quickly dried, tearing off the waterproofing with a sharp gasp. She dressed and quickly headed toward the stairs. Hundreds of questions were swarming her mind. Most of them concerned Jackson, but there was one big one intended for herself- _if _Jackson had had feelings for her, and _if_ he still had them, how did she feel about it? What exactly would she do if she was right? She didn't have an answer, but it would at least give her the comfort of knowing that he wouldn't kill her. _Probably._

As she made her way down the stairs, she decided that if she was right, it only changed her security in the house. The man had tried to kill her, and tried to kill her dad. Her dad was dead because of him, and she was being hunted down because of him. She was hardly going to run into his arms, hearing the violin music playing in her head as they danced together on a floor of rose petals.

No, she was going to get what she wanted and then leave, just like he did.

* * *

**Yep, looks like Jackson ****_might_**** be quite fond of Lisa already. I thought it might be fun to have her realize it but reject it for a little while instead of "oh, I suddenly love him...but does he love me?" stretched out F-O-R-E-V-E-R. Plus, I figure that it would take a person a while to completely warm back up to someone who did what he did. What do you guys think? Please R&R!**

**A/N- it's spring break, which is a sadly mocking name for this week. Mine is going to be incredibly busy and spent working, so I won't update this week.**


	7. We Build Then We Break

**Okay, the new chapter is up a little earlier than I planned. I've had lots of unexpected downtime this week as I've been laid up with a wonderful case of acute bronchitis. Which is a worse spring break- working your ass off every day or losing your voice and coughing until you throw up? /TMI**

**Anyway- a big thanks as always to those who reviewed! To show my appreciation, I'll start my old habit of actually replying individually. :)**

**trudes193****- **Yep, Lisa is going to be conflicted for quite a while with more than just her feelings for Jackson. Poor girl has been through a lot, and I have _a lot_more in store for her. I was also really amused that I got a review from you before the story had even officially posted on the site...I couldn't even read it for about 10 minutes after you wrote it.

**Medisha****- **Thanks for the kind words and for your support. I always thank those who review because it means a lot to me that you took time to give me some feedback. I like the description "so-called" for Jackson and Lisa's relationship. They don't really have one right now, do they? :P

**Brunette bulma****- **Actually, I've been planning on writing a DBZ fanfic for some time, but I was unmotivated by the fact that I never finish these stories. It was a big part of the reason that I picked this story back up. Yes, Jackson is very "ugh". Don't you just want to smack him and then take him with wild passion? Or is that just me?

**son-of-puji****- **So far, I plan on the story having a relatively happy ending. It can't be completely happy, or the title would simply be "Roses." :D Honestly, I hope that I didn't make a big mistake in having her realize his feelings so early. I have this story outline to have at least 8 more chapters, and I don't want to fall into the trap of dragging it on and on, but at the same time, if Lisa didn't realize that Jackson might be more than he seems, the next few chapters couldn't happen the way that they will. I'm assigning you the task of letting me know if I'm dragging it out to the point of annoyance. Be gentle. :**)**

**Without further ado...**

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**Chapter 7: We Build Then We Break**

Lisa stood outside the basement door. Was she supposed to knock? It wasn't his house, and he hadn't bothered to knock when he came to her room the first night. At least, she wasn't awake for it. And anyway, it was not like the door would open right to him. She chuckled at the thought of that massive house with a one-room basement.

Eventually, she made her way into his room. She found him laying in a bed, and it looked like he was asleep. She approached the bed, running her eyes up and down his body in amusement. She couldn't imagine him looking any less threatening than in jeans and no shirt, sprawled out on his back with limbs pointing every which way.

"Jackson?" she said softly, seeing if he would respond. When she got nothing, she moved closer and knelt down next to the bed. It was a curious thing for her face to be so close to his again, but this time on her terms. Oh, and the lack of hateful and/or angry glares was a noteworthy experience as well. He looked so peaceful, his full lips parted slightly. She felt an odd urge to smooth back the hair from his forehead, but thought better of it.

Instead, she took the time to really look at the man in front of her. She took inventory of his many injuries- the wound on his neck was nothing but an angry-looking scab. There were bruises on his side and hand where she had hit him with the stick, and a smattering of yellowing bruises along his chest and arms, which were probably from the many things she threw at him, from when she tripped him with the chair, or when she had kicked him down a staircase.

She thought back to her dad's living room, when Jackson lay bleeding on the floor. He was looking at her, and despite everything that had happened, she couldn't help but feel sorry for him. He looked like he was in so much pain, and was slowly dying right in front of her. Maybe it had been some kind of Stockholm Syndrome, but it definitely didn't please her to see him broken like that, nor did it make her feel particularly victorious. Their struggle had been kill or be killed, but she had never particularly _wanted_ to hurt him so badly.

Lisa chucked softly. She couldn't even imagine what he had looked like when the wounds were fresh, and also wished she could have been a fly on the wall when he was explaining to his brother what had happened. He still had bandages where he had been shot, but she assumed those wounds probably looked better than hers. She wanted to see the damage, but she knew that taking off the medical tape would wake him.

She frowned when she saw a scar on Jackson's lower torso, a scar that reminded her very much of her own. _Where did this come from? _It wasn't the only foreign scar, either. She saw one on his shoulder than looked like it maybe a bullet had grazed him or something similar. There was another long, thin mark on his left pec- probably another knife wound, likely from a slash. She traced her fingers along the silky lines, wondering what story each one held.

Her gaze traveled up Jackson's chest, throat, and to his face. She pulled her hand back like it was on fire when she saw Jackson's baby blues fixed on her. His expression was unreadable, as usual. Lisa knew that her face was a bright crimson.

"Why do you have two guns in your bag?" he asked, surprising her. She frowned at him.

"You went through my stuff?" she demanded. She really hated the idea of him going through her things. Hadn't he ever heard of a little thing called privacy? He shook his head.

"I saw them in your bag through the wall. X-ray vision. Comes in handy." Lisa rolled her eyes.

"Alright, _why _did you go through my stuff?" Jackson shrugged, yawning.

"I wanted to," he replied, running a hand through his hair.

Lisa crossed her arms, getting impatient. "_Why did-_"

"Christ, Leese." Jackson closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm not asking you why you were feeling me up, so why don't you drop why I went through your bag and just _answer_ the question?" He groaned. "But first, get me two pills from the blue bottle and some water." When she didn't move, he let out an irritated "_Please?_"

Lisa stared at him long enough to make sure that he got the message that she was not afraid of him. She grabbed the empty glass from the nightstand and filled it up with water in the bathroom that she had found while looking for his room. She brought back the water and knelt down by Jackson again, getting his pills from the blue bottle.

"Do you want me to feed them to you, or can you handle it on your own?" she asked sarcastically, holding them out. Jackson replied with a short grunt and pulled himself into a sitting position with what looked like difficulty, taking her offerings. Lisa frowned a little. Maybe he wasn't as recovered as he seemed.

"I took them from Keefe's men," she told him as he lowered himself back down with a satisfied exhale. "I'm not sure why...I just did." She took the glass from the nightstand and finished what was left of the water. "I shot them. They're dead." She bit her lip.

Jackson raised both eyebrows, his eyes still closed. "So, in two weeks, you took out a hitman, and _two_ government hitmen? Nice job, Rook. Maybe I _should_ just steal you." Lisa shook her head, smiling a bit.

"I don't think you can handle me anymore," she teased, "and unless you go to Texas and find my mom, you really have no one left to hold against me." She paled. Did she just _joke _about her dad's death?_Where_ had that come from? Even Jackson looked a little stunned, his eyes opening to look at her.

"Don't worry, it's just a coping mechanism. Dark humor," he said. He reached his hand out and ran a finger along her bangs, as though he was just noticing her new hair. It was a familiar gesture that made Lisa a little uneasy, and she flinched when his fingertips grazed her skin.

"Is that why you make so many jokes?" she blurted, regretting it when he pulled his hand back as though she had burned him.

"Why are you here?" he asked coldly, and any kindness that had been in his eyes was gone.

Lisa frowned. "Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Why are you here, Leese?" he asked again, cutting her off. She sighed.

"You said you would change my bandage," she muttered, defeated. It was like playing chess, but a game of chess where your opponent simply shot any pieces that came near his off the board. Lisa would say one wrong thing, and Jackson would shut down.

"Later," Jackson replied, his tone signaling that he was done talking. Lisa stood up abruptly and stormed out, stomping all the way back to the third floor like a two year old throwing a temper tantrum. She dropped on the bed and stared at the ceiling, scowling. He was so _frustrating. _All she could do was hope that they could form a plan soon, and go their separate ways. Of course, that would require the Rippners actually being together at the same time with her and the four of them talking.

She turned onto her side and glared at the wall instead. She just wanted to get out of there and get on with her life. She tried to go back to sleep, hoping to wait it out until either Caleb or Cheryl came home so they could help. She could do it herself, but she found that she either tied the bandage too tightly, too loosely, the pad wouldn't stick, or whatever. When did she become so completely incapable of taking care of anything on her own?

Lisa turned onto her back again and sighed in exasperation. She wasn't tired, and it was only 12:30. At least five more hours in this house with only Jackson around, waiting for him to decide that he wanted to see her again? _Thanks, but no thanks._ She changed into one of her hoodies and a pair of jeans, and headed back down the stairs. In the entry way, she scanned for a pair of boots and a coat, throwing on a beanie and walking out the door into the cold afternoon.

She coughed as the frigid air was inhaled into her lungs. Of all the places to end up in, she chose Siberia. But, as she would rather turn into some kind of popsicle than stay in that house at the moment, she made her way down the driveway and started to walk down the street. She really wished that she had brought a pair of headphones or something...the silence was deafening, and it gave her no escape from her whirlwind brain.

One minute she hated Jackson. Then she was getting upset that he wouldn't let her get closer. As if that weren't pathetic enough, now she was wasting time wondering if he had feelings for her. It definitely seemed so, but then there were those moments when he was stone cold. Well, that and the whole tiny blackmail incident. She couldn't blame him for that, though. He was doing his job.

Lisa snorted. She was starting to sound like him. _We all do what we have to do. _Bullshit. There's a choice that everyone has to make, and saying that you had to do it is just a way of avoiding guilt. Just another coping mechanism that prevents you from really dwelling on exactly how wrong you may have been. If she had done what Jackson said and the Keefes had died, would she really have been able to say 'I had to do it'? Well, she probably would have tried, but she knew it was wrong. Hell, if it weren't wrong, she would have just done it instead of putting her life and her dad's even more at risk.

She had made a choice. She knew that she couldn't live with the knowledge that she condemned someon to die to save someone else, even if it meant choosing a person that she was acquainted with over her own dad. She would have been within her rights to say that she was forced, but it seemed that even on the plane, she knew it was crap.

The guilt over her dad was much lighter than it used to be. It had happened because she made the choice to save the Keefes. It had also occurred to her that even if she wouldn't have save the Keefes, things might have worked out more or less the same. She still could easily have been blamed for setting it up, and there was a good chance they wouldn't have believed "Jim Richards" had anything to do with it. As far as the flight attendants were concerned, he was someone that had worried about the crying passenger next to him and had maybe given her a sympathy lay in the Mile High Club. His excuse about the death in the family had been brilliant, actually. She _had_ been on her way home from a funeral, and that would be easy to verify.

Lisa sighed. She knew that whether or not it was Jackson's intention, she mostly likely would have gone down for the assassination. And she couldn't help that her dad had saved her. He could hardly be expected to just stand there- she was just surprised that he moved so quickly. No, she didn't completely blame herself for what had happened to her father anymore. She just missed him.

Lisa's heart sank when she realized something new. She was going to miss her dad's funeral. It would probably be in a few days, and everyone would be there...except her. What story would they hear? Would they be told that Joe had sacrificed himself and that she was on the run from DHS?

Suddenly, Lisa's right leg shot out to the side as she hit a patch of ice that had been covered in light snow. Lost in her thoughts, she hadn't given herself time to react and ended up lurching forward, throwing her hands in front of her to break the fall. Major mistake. Her right hand hit first, and her vision went white as a searing pain shot through it. She rolled over onto her back, cradling the throbbing wrist with the other arm. She didn't know how long she lay on the ice, crying in pain, frustration, and downright humiliation for being so careless before she pulled herself to her feet and looked around. Thankfully, she hadn't made any turns since leaving the Rippners', because she wasn't sure she would have been able to remember them anymore.

Wrist and pride hurting, she headed back to the house. She walked in the front door and was met with a scowling Jackson.

"Where have you been?" he demanded. Lisa kicked off her boots, glaring at him. She didn't have to talk if she didn't want to. She carefully slid the coat off and hung it on the rack before heading into the kitchen, the angry man at her heels. "Well?"

"Out," she replied, opening the freezer and scanning for an ice pack. Jackson growled and grabbed her arm, yanking her around to look at him. Of course he grabbed the wrong wrist, and Lisa cried out in agony, pounding her other fist on his chest in release, but was careful not to hit his injured side. Jackson dropped her arm, startled.

"What the hell was that?" he asked, more surprise than anger now in his voice. Lisa pulled the ice from the freezer.

"I fell," she responded shortly and pushed past him with her good shoulder, heading for her room.

"Stop," Jackson ordered, wrapping an arm around her waist from behind in restraint. "Let's take a look at it." Lisa snorted.

"When did you get your medical degree?" she asked mockingly, pressing the ice pack to her sleeve. Jackson sighed, sliding his arm so his hand rested on the small of her back and leading her to Caleb's office.

"I can tell if it's a break or not. And I'll call Caleb." He sat her down in the chair and took the phone from Caleb's desk, dialing his number. Jackson knelt down in front of Lisa and carefully took her forearm with both hands, cradling the phone on his shoulder.

Lisa watched Jackson finger the sleeve. She could tell it was too tight to pull up her arm without hurting her wrist, and it looked like he knew it too. Without bothering to ask if she was wearing a shirt underneath, he helped her slide the hoodie off, starting with her "good" arm, then her head, and pulling the whole thing off over her bad arm as he greeted his brother. She was left mortified in only her bra and a shade of pink on her cheeks, but he didn't seem to notice. He gingerly inspected her wrist, and she heard him tell Caleb that it didn't seem broken. Maybe a sprain.

Jackson stood up and went to a cabinet, making a few confirmation noises. Lisa sat and watched him grab a few items from the cabinet. "An hour?" he asked, kneeling back down in front of Lisa, "Sounds good." He hung up, looking up at Lisa. "He says to put it in a splint for now. He'll check it when he gets home." He placed a depressor under her wrist. "Why did you leave?" he asked calmly, wrapping tape around the depressor to hold it in place.

"Why do you care?" she responded, pulling her wrist back. She smiled when Jackson remained quiet, knowing that she won the round. _He can't even admit that he was worried that I had left._

The two stared at each other for a moment before Jackson broke the silence. "We have someone working on getting you a new identity, and then you can get out of here," he said, reaching for her arm to change her other bandage, "and this will all be over." _So the Rippners __**have **__been talking, just not to me. _Lisa watched Jackson's gentle movements. He was always so kind to her when he did this kind of thing, and she wasn't used to it. She swallowed hard.

"Do you want me gone?" she asked softly, looking up to meet his eyes. He raised his eyebrows and exhaled, fastening the bandage.

"I'm not sure," he replied, and wouldn't look at her eyes again. He headed for the door. _Why did I say that? Why not make some snarky little comment about how if I never see him again, it will be too soon or something? _He was almost out the door, and another pawn lay on the floor in pieces. At this point in the game, the player should probably try some tactical assault, but what did she know? She had no idea how to actually play chess.

"Running away again, Jackson?" Lisa asked, crossing her legs. She was still topless, but now it had a different effect. It almost added to her power, showing him that she was not at all afraid of him. He stopped, but didn't turn around.

"What are you talking about? When did I run?"

She scoffed. "You've been running from something since I met you." Jackson looked at her and smirked.

"Clever, Leese. Did you learn that in one of Dad's pathetic self-help books?" Jackson turned around quickly and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Lisa sunk in her chair and watched the chess pieces fly through the air. Forget shooting- Jackson had just flipped the board.

* * *

**Damn that Jackson and his defense mechanisms! :) I feel the need to point out that I've seen six movies with Cillian, and the man never wears jeans in his films (maybe in ****_28 Days Later_****). So, I felt obligated to put him in a pair for once.**

**As always, R&R please!**


	8. Then There Were Two

**So on top of the bronchitis, I have a sprained ankle now. Isn't life grand? It's like karma- the more I do to Lisa, the more I'm falling apart. She's like a little voodoo doll. :D**

**trudes193- **EXACTLY like a little kid without candy. I based his little defense mechanisms off a little kid who doesn't get what they want, so they say mean things just to hurt the other person. Thanks for noticing! :)

**Medisha- **You caught me. :D Every chapter gets its name from a song title. Your review really made my day, too! Thanks for the kind words- they really helped me write like a madwoman to get the next chapter out for you.

**son-of-puji- **I love those stories, too. And as you can see in this chapter, they're about to get even more isolated. ;) You're right about Intermission. He does wear jeans in that movie...totally forgot about it.

**Brunette_bulma- **They're about to have a LOT more time together, don't worry. I LOVED Watching the Detectives- that scene where he plays softball while bawling like a baby makes me cry laughing every time I see it. Would have been a great movie if Lucy Liu's character didn't exist. She kind of ruined it. He doesn't wear jeans in it, though- he wears cords and cargo pants. I checked VERY carefully. :P

**Thanks for the reviews, and on with the chapter! Fittingly, it's named after a song from the ****28 Days Later**** soundtrack.**

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**Chapter 8: Then There Were Two**

"Well, it's definitely not a break. Mild sprain," Caleb told Lisa after he had unwrapped her wrist. "It should be fine in a week, week and a half, tops. I'll put the splint back on, though. It's not necessary, but it will be more comfortable." Lisa just nodded. She had hardly spoken since Jackson stormed out. Caleb was doing his best to be friendly, but she was having none of it. He looked too much like his twin, and, well, his twin was an asshole.

"You won't have to stay here much longer, you know," Caleb offered, taping up her wrist, "Your arm is healing nicely, and this isn't bad. It will probably take them a few more days to get everything set up, and then they will mail everything here." He smiled. "You're getting the VIP treatment. Jackson is having them set you up with a nice apartment in Manhattan-best place in America to hide. Apparently he's paying the rent until you can get a job. We are getting false references and everything." Lisa nodded. From what Jackson had said, he also lived in New York. She vaguely wondered if he lived in Manhattan, but it definitely wouldn't surprise her if he did. _Way to get me out of your life, Jack._

"I guess you have been pretty miserable here, huh?" Caleb asked, finishing his ministrations. Lisa bit her lip. It wasn't like that.

"It's not your fault...you and Cheryl have been great," she said, forcing a smile to reassure him.

"Which means it's Jackson, right?" She nodded. "Well, I guess it's to be expected. It's not like you two were going to get on like the best of friends, and it looks like he can't stay away from you even for a few days." Caleb cleared his throat, looking a little embarrassed. Lisa's eyes narrowed. He knew something.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, watching him carefully. Caleb waved a hand dismissively.

"It's nothing. I guess he just wants to keep an eye on you." Somehow, Lisa could tell that he wasn't being completely honest, but she let it slide.

"Why is he like that?" she asked. Caleb's eyes widened and he exhaled sharply, bringing a hand to the back of his head.

"'Like that'?" he repeated. "'That' being...?" Lisa rolled her eyes.

"Why is honesty so important to him? Specifically my honesty? Why is he so...bipolar?" She could have elaborated, but she didn't think Caleb was interested in hearing every detail of their interactions, or if she even wanted to tell him. Caleb dropped into a chair close to hers.

"...well, he's been like that for a few years." He sighed. "Look, Leese, it's a long story and it's not really mine to tell." Lisa groaned and let her head drop back so she was staring at the ceiling.

"Why can't you just tell me? I feel like I'm going in blind. I feel like every conversation ends with me saying something wrong, and him just closing off. Maybe if I knew what was going on..." she trailed off, unsure of how to end that sentence.

Caleb chuckled. "It's only a few days. Or do you plan on sticking with him longer than that?" Lisa shook her head vigorously.

"No, you're right. I can stay away from him for a few days, and then it will be over." Lisa sighed. "But apparently he's not sure he wants it to be over." She said the last part to herself, but Caleb still seemed to have heard it, although it barely fazed him.

"So he told you?" Lisa rolled her head along the back of the chair to look at him.

"Yes. And maybe I don't care what he wants. What, am I supposed to just follow him around like some puppy dog just because he suddenly decided to care?" Caleb shook his head. "I refuse to be one of those Stockholm Syndrome girls."

"And that's your right," he replied. "But," he added, leaning forward in the chair, "by refusing at all costs to be a so-called 'Stockholm Syndrome girl', aren't you letting the situation control you just as much?" Lisa sat up, confused. "Let me put it another way. You think doing what Jackson wants means he has control over you, which makes sense. But if you do the exact opposite of what he wants, it appears to me that you're letting him control your actions just as much." Lisa dropped her head again, pondering what he had said. "Just search your feelings, and do what you really want to do. Damn the torpedoes."

Lisa giggled. This man made her feel so at ease sometimes. "Why can't he be more like you?" she asked.

Caleb chucked. "Because then he would be me, and not Jackson. Besides, if we were both me, we would have been dead long ago." When Lisa turned to look at him again, he nodded, but didn't elaborate.

"Have you ever killed anyone, Caleb?" Lisa asked, giving him a questioning look. He nodded, and his face look eerily like Jackson when he was masking emotions. Was that something the two of them had mastered, or was it something everyone in their line of work did?

"Many times. Not for a while, though." He motioned to her wrist. "I'm more interested in saving lives than taking them now." He shook his head. "Jackson doesn't understand. I think he thinks I abandoned him. This whole thing was the first time I had spoken to him in a few months." Lisa frowned.

"But he said Cheryl helped him get on the flight," she said. Caleb nodded.

"She did. She's the one who knew he was there and the reason we got to him in time." He ran a hand through his hair, "You know, sometimes I think that she is still involved with him." He laughed when Lisa raised an eyebrow. "No, not like that. This isn't a soap opera. I just mean if she's not as retired as she claims to be."

Lisa frowned. "Wouldn't Jackson tell you if she was?"

Caleb shook his head. "I don't know. He would probably think that I would try to make her stop or something." He grinned. "That woman is one hell of a shot. Almost as good as me."

Lisa couldn't help but laugh at his almost childlike boasting. "And Jackson is a horrible shot?" Caleb snorted.

"Horrible. I mean, he can hit a person at a fairly good range, but it takes him a few shots to kill them. Not a good trait for a hitman, wouldn't you agree?" Lisa nodded. Caleb leaned back in his chair. "No, he found his place as a manager. He doesn't have to do the final kill himself, but still gets his hands dirty." He took a sip of his coffee. "Want to hear something kind of wild?" When Lisa nodded again, he continued. "He was never supposed to do that job. With you, I mean. He fought for it."

Lisa did a double-take. "What are you talking about?" she demanded. "What does that mean?"

Caleb frowned, thinking. "He never really explained it. There was another manager that was involved with the plan from the start, and it was supposed to be his job. Jackson told me last week that he talked the director into letting him take it instead. He never said why, though." He paused, smiling a little. "Oh, here's a tip for dealing with Jackson: don't press him for information. If he wants to tell you, he'll tell you in his own time. If you want to press, expect to drag him kicking and screaming."

Lisa rolled her eyes. She had definitely noticed that little trait of his, and she found it incredibly annoying. Caleb sobered. "As for what taking the job means, though, it means that he wasn't on as good of terms with the Russians as the other guy, and he definintely stepped on some toes. It could mean trouble, but we haven't heard much about it yet."

As if on cue, Jackson stormed into the room, flinging the door open. The two occupants turned to face him. "Cheryl is downstairs in tornado mode. She needs you." He didn't look at Lisa at all, speaking straight to his brother. Caleb nodded and turned back to Lisa.

"Guess we have to cut this short. We'll talk more later." Without waiting for a response, he briskly headed out the door, Jackson at his heels. They were talking, but Lisa couldn't make it out. Curious as to exactly what 'tornado mode' meant, she followed the twins down the hallway and to the storm downstairs.

In the living room, Cheryl was on her computer, clicking furiously. Papers were strewn on the counter and on the floor. "We need to leave. Tonight!" she snapped at the three. The brothers approached her while Lisa hung back, confused. She sat on the steps, watching the scene in front of her.

"What?" Caleb asked, his tone completely serious.

"It's the Russians. They're here. That asshole Robert sold _him-_" she motioned to Jackson "-out and now they're on their way. We can't stay here. Jesus, Caleb-" more clicking on the keyboard "-we are _not_ ready for this!"

Caleb walked behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. "What are you doing here?" he asked, motioning to the computer.

"What do you mean, Robert sold me out?" Jackson demanded, dropping his hands on the table and leaning toward Cheryl. "How?"

"I'm getting us tickets to Ft. Lauderdale," Cheryl replied to Caleb. "We have to hide for a while." She looked at Jackson. "He gave your name and our names to the Russians, who are pretty fucking pissed that the Keefe job went to shit. I have no idea _how _he got the information, but I guess they can't find _you_, so they're coming here. I just talked to Marie, and she told me everything." Back to Caleb. "I told my boss that there was a death in the family and that I'm going to be gone at least a week. You have a week left until you have to go back to work, so you should be fine." To Jackson: "We need to kill the son of a bitch, but we need to hide out until we can form a plan!"

Lisa could only watch this new development unfold in front of her. What did this mean for them? For her?

"Why are we going to Florida if that's where Robert is?" Caleb asked, at the same time that Jackson asked "How is Lisa going to fly?", referring to her lack of ID and the fact that she was a wanted fugitve.

"We'll be in striking distance of Robert, and Florida is the last place he would expect us to go. We're going to use our fakes in case, though." She looked at Jackson. "She's not coming, and neither are you. You're taking her to get her IDs." Jackson began to argue vehemently, but Cheryl continued. "You are in no condition to fight anyone, so don't even try. We'll take care of this."

"We can't fly," Caleb reminded her.

Cheryl groaned. "You don't have a fake. I forgot," she said bitterly, "Fine, I guess we're driving, too."

Jackson cut in. "Are you saying I should _drive_ Lisa down to _Oklahoma _just so she can get some fucking identification?" he demanded. "Absolutely not. Why don't you two take her to-"

"Because you need to talk to Marie and finish the Keefe business!" Cheryl snapped. "She wants to see you, and you're going." Jackson's mouth opened to argue, but closed just as quickly and he threw his hands in the air.

"Fine. I'll take her."

"No, not fine!" Lisa interjected. She had had enough of being told where to go and what to do, with her life on the line the whole way. Plus, it was one thing to be stuck under the same roof as Jackson and his teeter-totter emotions, but the same car? For however long it would take to get to Oklahama? "I am not going anywhere with him. I'd rather just take my chances with the feds!" She stormed upstairs, leaving three stunned Rippners in her wake. She could faintly hear Caleb and one of the brothers arguing, but she didn't care. She burst into her room and started throwing her things in her bag, being careful not to take anything that was purchased for her. It wasn't long before she heard Jackson's voice.

"Don't be stupid, Leese," he said, his voice steady. "How long do you think you'll last on foot with just your miserable cash? $2000 and the government chasing you? You'll get killed." Lisa flung her bag onto her good shoulder and squared off against him.

"And I'm supposed to go with _you_?" she spat, "You're being hunted by assassins right now! Hardly a safe person to be with."

Jackson laughed harshly. "It's happened before."

Lisa shook her head. "No. I don't trust you." Jackson crossed the room in three steps and was upon her.

"If I wanted to kill you, I would have." Lisa moved around him.

"Don't flatter yourself. I'm not afraid of you. You're just one of the last people I want to be stuck with."

Lisa was almost to the door when Jackson spoke again. "What about your mother, Leese? Your family?"

She stopped cold and turned to face him. "What did you just say?" Jackson approached her again.

"Your mother? Your family? Did you really think Keefe's men were going to leave them alone? They are harassing them, trying to get them to break." His jaw clenched. "It's an extremely unpleasant experience. They told your mother that _you_ killed your dad."

Her mom thought that _she _killed her dad, and now the government was doing God knows what to them? All the breath Lisa had escaped her body and she crumpled to the floor, crying. Jackson was down in front of her instantly, his hands on her shoulders. "That's what Cheryl meant about the Keefe business. We're going to finish it- we're going to get rid of Keefe."

"They'll just blame it on me! It won't end there!" Lisa choking out, her tears turning to sobs. Jackson put a hand on her chin and tilted her face to meet his.

"Look at me," he said, "We are going to _end it._ Why do you think it's been taking so long to get you back on your feet?" He scoffed. "IDs are easy to get, Leese. We have been trying to figure out a way to help you _disappear_, to make the government think that you are dead." Lisa stared at him. Her sobs had stopped, but tears still fell. "If you want to help your family, you have to trust me," he said softly, and Lisa felt like he was being completely honest with her for the first time since they had met. No hidden catch, no mind games, just truth. Seeing this new vulnerability, her anger melted, and she collapsed forward into his chest.

Jackson grimaced, and she couldn't tell if it was pain or because he was uncomfortable, but she didn't really care anymore. She just wanted to be held, if only for a moment. Jackson slowly closed his arms across her back, embracing her. "I'm going to fix this," he murmured, resting his chin on her head. When she was calm, he released her. She sat back on her heels, staring at the small wet spots she had left on his shirt.

"I need to get my things together," Jackson explained, rising to his feet. "I'll meet you in the living room, alright?" He quickly walked out of the room, leaving Lisa on the floor. She pulled herself to her feet and walked to the living room. Caleb sat by an open window, smoking a cigarette.

"These are bad for me," he said when she sat down next to him, "Trust me- I'm a doctor." Lisa smiled, wondering how many times he had used that little joke. "Jackson said that everything is sorted, yeah?" She nodded.

"My family is in danger," she said flatly. Caleb nodded.

"We didn't want to tell you until there was something we could do about it," he said, "Jackson's man on the inside says that they're going to be at your dad's funeral. It's in four days. It might be our window, but we haven't figured out a plan yet." Lisa just nodded, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"This is so...How...I didn't even stop to think about the rest of my family," she admitted, staring out the window. "They must be in so much pain."

"You have to put it out of your mind again," Caleb told her. "Until we have a plan, you can't help it. If you hadn't left, you'd be dead. Would that fix things?"

"I suppose not," Lisa replied, "So...what happens now?"

"You should be at the ranch the day after tomorrow," Caleb replied. "Go fast, but be careful. Jackson is still on some pretty heavy painkillers, so he shouldn't drive for long periods of time. It will be at least two more weeks before he's healed, and we just don't have that much time. You be careful when you drive. You don't have a license, you know." Lisa nodded. Caleb nudged a duffel bag by his feet. "I packed pills, bandages, tape, and other...supplies. There are two guns and extra ammo in there, too. You might need them. Wish someone could have taught you to shoot, though."

"My dad did," Lisa said sadly. The time they spent at the range together was just one more thing that she was going to miss. She had mixed feelings about what Caleb had told her. Did 'window of opportunity' mean that they were going to crash her dad's funeral? She had caused him a final two weeks of hell, and didn't want to even think about disrespecting the day he was laid to rest. She knew not to question Caleb, though. She knew him well enough to know that if there were any other option, he would take it.

At least, she liked to think he would. Lisa stared into his eyes, which were focused outside again. She didn't see a cold-hearted man like she had seen in Jackson. Their eyes were technically identical, but to her, they were two very different colors. Caleb's eyes were the color of a beautiful spring sky, and Jackson's were like an icy pool that sometimes actually made her feel physically colder when he looked at her. She found it intriguing that they shared identical feature, but she saw entirely different men.

Jackson walked over to the two of them, setting down a bag of his own. "Not cool, Caleb," he remarked, referring to the cigarette in his brother's hand. Caleb grinned and looked at Lisa.

"He can't smoke while he's recovering," he informed her and looked back at Jackson, "_I _didn't shoot you...blame her." He grinned at the unamused look on Jackson's face. "Cheryl's packing. Her head is ready to spin off, so I just let her do her thing." He stubbed the cigarette out in an ashtray. "You know her...can't waste time with emotions when there is a perfectly good murder to plan."

Both brothers smiled sadly, staring at each other. Lisa couldn't help but feel pity for them. From what Caleb had said, they didn't have much of a relationship anymore. It seemed that now that they were building something, they had to part again. They had to know there was a chance that this was it...or maybe they always knew that. She wondered what it would be like to say goodbye to someone you cared about knowing full well that you might never see them again. People like them must do it all the time.

She looked on sadly as Caleb got to his feet and Jackson pulled him into a tight hug. "Everything is going to work," Jackson assured him, "I just wish..."

"I know," Caleb interrupted, "it's okay. We'll get this sorted." He pulled away and fished a pair of keys out of his pocket. "You'll be taking Cheryl's car. It's less conspicuous than mine." Jackson nodded, taking the keys.

"I'll call you," he said, grabbing the bag that Caleb had left and walking out the front door after giving Lisa a pointed look. Lisa looked at Caleb, a little dejected. She had only been there for a few days, and now they were parting before she really got the chance to know him.

"Thank you...for everything," she got out.

Caleb smiled and pulled her into a hug, carefully avoiding her arm. "He'll take care of you, and you make sure to take care of him," he whispered, kissing Lisa on the cheek before releasing her. He grinned. "Now get going." Lisa pulled on the boots, coat, and gloves that had been designated for her and walked out the door quickly. She slowly walked to the car and climbed in, tossing her bag in the backseat. Neither said anything as they pulled down the driveway and down the street.

Lisa turned to look at the house getting smaller and smaller. "They can't go back there, can they?" she asked meekly.

"Not for a while at least," came the reply. Lisa nodded, watching the house disappear as they turned the corner. Another backdrop of her life gone. It was kind of funny, in a way. She had been so miserable much of the time she had spent in that house, and now that she was leaving, she found that she would miss it, as well as Caleb and Cheryl.

But loss was becoming a second language. She turned around and stared straight ahead as Jackson pulled onto the freeway. She couldn't help but wonder what- or who- she would lose next.

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**Lisa's questions have been building and building, and now she has a nice road trip with nothing to do but crack Jackson's shell! I think it's about time we got to know the man behind those eyes.**

**Also, I like to imagine Cheryl's "tornado mode" is something like Rocco's in ****The Boondock Saints****: www. youtube watch?v=774JiSMWdQQ (just the first 30 seconds or so) For anyone who hasn't seen that movie, I highly recommend it- definitely one of my favorites!**


	9. Play With Fire

**Thanks to my reviewers- I am doing much better. :)**

**trudes193- **Caleb's smart. He knows that if he sticks his nose where it doesn't belong, he might get it punched off. :)

**Medisha- **Oh, I loathe Katy Perry, but the sentiment is there. :) Caleb and Jackson do have a tricky little relationship, and it's going to get more complicated as we go. He's definitely not a throwaway character. I make no promises one way or another about his wellbeing, though. You'll just have to wait and see what I have planned for him. A little "trivia" for you- Caleb is the baby twin. Jackson's the big brother/protector.

**Brunette bulma- **I don't think Jackson knows _how_ to be a lovesick puppy. lol She really did look like his mom at least. Still a good movie.

**Jesscah- **Welcome home! I really enjoy reading your stories, so that compliment was taken with more than a bit of squealing. :D And as you'll see in this coming up chapter, you are absolutely correct about hot tempers.

**Mes amis, l'aventure commence!**

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**Chapter 9: Play With Fire**

Lisa stared out the window. They had been on the road for three hours. Minnesota was _boring_. She sighed and lolled her head toward Jackson.

"I spy with my-"

"No."

"-little eye-"

"Stop."

"-something beginning with 's'." Jackson sighed, and said nothing. Lisa continued to stare.

"Sky," he finally guessed. Lisa smiled.

"No." Jackson rolled his eyes.

"Snow?"

"Yep." Lisa nudged him. "It's your turn," she said. He glanced at her and turned back to to the road. "Well, if you don't want to play, we can do something else." She leaned toward him. "Why did you take the Keefe job from that other manager?"

Jackson clenched his jaw. "I spy with my little eye, something beginning with 't'."Lisa sighed, but remembered what Caleb said.

"The truth?" she asked. _No harm in a little pushing..._

"Nope," Jackson replied pointedly. Lisa turned back to look out the window again.

"Trees," she said, dejected. They sat in silence again.

"Did Caleb tell you?" she heard him ask. She tried his tactic, and said nothing. She knew that when he said nothing, she had a tendency to keep talking. Maybe he was the same way. "Well?" When she didn't reply, Jackson sighed. "Let's just say that Robert and I have differences in opinion, and I didn't want him in charge." Lisa turned to look at him.

"Robert? He's the other manager?" she asked, frowning. Was she stuck in the middle of a long-running grudge? "What was the difference in opinion?"

Jackson ran a hand through his hair, falling silent again. Lisa sighed. "Jackson, we are going to be here for a long time. Are you going to just ignore me?"

"We could play the alphabet game," Jackson replied sarcastically. She stared at him, completely unamused. "Fine," he said, sighing, "Make you a deal. I'll tell you what happened if you tell me how far you'll willing to take this." Lisa furrowed her eyebrows. "Your family will think that you're dead. You will never see them again. You realize this, right? Are you going to go all the way, and completely trust me, or bail?"

Lisa turned to face the front, sighing. She wished she could avoid her death and prove that she was innocent, but she knew that someone like her stood zero chance against the US government. She basically had three options: fake her death and remain a traitor, dying trying and remain a traitor, or turn herself in, and either die or rot in prison as a traitor. She couldn't prove her innocence unless she...turned in Jackson. As quickly as the realization hit her, she dismissed it. It didn't make logical sense, but she knew that she couldn't betray him like that. Her mind drifted to her dad. How would he feel about her right now? She knew that he gave himself up for her. How would he feel if he saw her now, willingly traveling with the very man who had caused it? Would he be disappointed in her? Would he understand?

"Leese?" she heard Jackson ask, but she remained silent. Did _she_ even understand? In the last week and a half, up until a few days ago, it would be laughable to think that she could really trust Jackson. Even more laughable to think that she could trust him with her life. It was occurring to her that sometime over the last few days, the man next to her had gotten to her in a way that she never expected.

She glanced over at Jackson out of the corner of her eye. Here they were again, side by side in an enclosed space with no escape. She was making her decision between fight and flight- walk off that plane when it landed, have a latte with Jackson, let the Keefes die, and hope for the best, or save the Keefes, risking her life and the life of her father. Another moment of truth. The results were reversed this time, though. Flight meant that no, she didn't trust him, and he would likely drop her off somewhere and drive out of her life, leaving her for dead. Fight meant staying with him, and hoping for the best.

The male-driven, fact-based logic that Jackson seemed to like so much said in its condescending little voice that she couldn't trust him. He was an assassin, a cold monster. Period. He was probably setting her up for something. She had found him too quickly, and the Rippners had accepted her far too easily. The female-driven, emotion-based logic flailed around and insisted that she had nothing to fear, that Jackson's thirst for revenge had been short-lived, based solely on the fact that she had betrayed him. Not that she had thwarted his plans, because he hadn't known when he chased her down that the Keefes were alive. Just like in the bathroom- the real rage came when she had lied to him about a personal matter, not a business one. She crushed the male logic, reminding it that she had solved this question already without even realizing it- Jackson was drawn to her. She knew in her heart in addition to explaining his behavior on the plane, it meant that he was going to protect her, and she also knew that he was taking a big risk to do so.

"I trust you," she said, her voice unwavering. She had thought that Jackson might question her, doubting that she was being completely honest- especially since it had taken her forever and a day to answer- but he made no comment. It wouldn't surprise her if he could somehow tell what she had been thinking.

After another moment of silence, Jackson took a deep breath. "I helped Robert with the Keefe job. He worked things out with the Russians, and I watched you, analyzing you. Trying to find your weak points." He paused, and Lisa waited. He had given her time, and she would do the same for him. "I found out that his plan was to threaten your life until you made the switch, and then to kill you after anyway." Lisa turned to face him, her eyes widened. She waited, but he didn't continue.

"So you took the job from him?" she asked. He just nodded, keeping his eyes on the road. "Why?" Jackson didn't reply. She sighed. "Is it so hard for you to admit that you didn't want me dead?" she muttered, still watching him.

He turned, giving her a condescending look. "No Leese, I didn't want you dead. It wasn't necessary," he replied.

"Is that the only reason?" she asked quietly, turning to look him in the eye.

He turned back to the road. "What other reason do you want?" he asked.

"I don't know...you didn't want me dead because you cared?" she offered. Jackson shrugged.

"Is that what you think?" he asked.

"I do," she replied. She was not nervous. She didn't doubt herself anymore, and she knew there was nowhere for him to run this time unless he was planning on kicking her out of the car. That would be a tad too excessive for his style.

"Then you don't need me to say it," he said coldly. Lisa leaned forward.

"I want you to say it," she told him, holding her ground.

"Why? Some kind of female need to constantly be reassured?" he asked mockingly. She wasn't fooled this time. She could see that this was an exit strategy, that he was trying to get her to pull away first.

"It doesn't matter. I want to hear you say it."

Jackson slammed his open palm on the wheel, swerving onto an exit ramp and pulling into the parking lot of a gas station. "Christ, Leese! I didn't want you to die because I care about you, alright? I want to kill the man who gave you that scar! I can't stand that some asshole fed shot you! I'm sorry that I tried to kill you, but you stabbed me with a fucking pen! Is that what you wanted to hear? Does that make everything all better?" He threw open the car door and got out, quickly walking away from the car.

Lisa bit her lip. _I guess that's what Caleb would call 'kicking and screaming,' _she mused, but she knew it wasn't funny. Did she push him too hard? Was he going to close up even more now? She wasn't sure if she should follow him or not, so she stayed put. Within a few minutes, Jackson got back in the car, looking much more composed.

Jackson just sat there, leaving the car off. "It's true, alright?" he said softly, "I was attracted to you, but you were still a job. I couldn't just let you die, even though I knew there was no chance of...us, I guess." Lisa stared at his jacket pocket, processing all of the information. She knew she was supposed to say something. _'No Jackson, there is no chance'...'Of course there is a chance'...'There is a definite possibility that there maybe could be a chance'..._

"I-I'm really hungry," she replied. Jackson nodded shortly, and turned the engine over, suddenly all-business again. Lisa took his hand in hers. "I need time," she said. He gave her hand a small squeeze, and then pulled away.

"So, what's the plan?" she asked as they pulled into the parking lot of a Culver's. "I don't think I can do the all night driving, and Caleb said you shouldn't drive for long periods of time."

"I guess we'll have to stop somewhere," Jackson responded. "I need some painkillers soon, so you're going to have to take the wheel. Think you can make it a few more hours?" Lisa's wrist was starting to throb again, but she pushed it out of her mind. She wasn't going to be a weak link anymore than she already was. She nodded.

"Yeah. Is two okay?" she asked. He nodded and reached back for his bag.

"I have something for you," he said, scanning through the items. He pulled out a glasses case. "Here. They're Cheryl's, actually. Surprisingly good at changing appearances."

Lisa pulled the glasses out and put them on her face. She was surprised to find that she could see perfectly through them. "Really? Glasses make that big of a difference?" He nodded.

As they walked into the restaurant, Jackson reminded her to act naturally. It would draw more attention if she was evasive.

"No one will recognize you," he assured, opening the door for her. Lisa nodded. She knew that a smile would be forced, but she could at least do neutral to hide her terror. Jackson kept his hand on the small of her back as they ordered, which calmed her. It also helped them blend in- just another couple in a restaurant. He escorted her to the table, where they sat in silence.

Jackson leaned in closer to murmur in her ear as though he were whispering sweet nothings. "You need to get it together, Leese," he said as Lisa turned her head toward him slightly, "Just _relax_, and we will be out of here soon. Alright?"

She nodded and nuzzled his cheek with her nose. She could play the game just as well as he could. She grinned as Jackson pulled away quickly. _Not much of a sport, Jack. What happened to the great actor? _Jackson's expression was unreadable, but Lisa didn't have time to ponder. Their food came, and the two quickly ate. Lisa hadn't realized how hungry she was- she had gotten a few bites of breakfast before Jackson had his little tantrum, and that was almost nine hours ago.

Lisa glanced around and noticed that many eyes, especially the girls' eyes, were on Jackson. She smiled, wondering if he was ever able to blend in. On the plus side, if they were watching him, then they probably wouldn't be looking at her. She knew that they should make small talk or something to keep up appearances, but she had no idea what to say to him. Fortunately, Jackson was on his game.

"You know what we should stop to see on the trip, Becks?" he asked, eating a few fries. She furrowed her eyes at the nickname, but decided he just gave her an alias, complete with his own familiar nickname. She thought about the question, and shook her head. She had never been in any of these states. "Nothing," he deadpanned. "There is absolutely nothing to see for the entire drive."

Lisa giggled. "Isn't there some fascinating farm land and some cows to see or something?" Jackson shrugged.

"Yeah," he said, "But you know, you see a handful of cows, and you've seen them all. Then you stop for a burger and think about all those cows you saw. It's all very depressing."

"So switch to chicken," she replied. "Or become a vegetarian and mourn the plants you pass." The short duration of the meal passed in this fashion, and they soon left.

"Becks?" she teased as Jackson took his painkillers with the bottle of water he had gotten from the gas station. "You can't even handle two-syllable names, can you Jack?"

"Nope," he replied, leaning the seat back a little. Lisa pulled out of the parking lot and headed back to the freeway. The two drove in silence until Jackson turned on the radio. Lisa groaned. She was so sick of classic rock. It was like there was a requirement for men to love it after they reached the age of 14.

"Can't we listen to something else?" she asked, "Some oldies or something?"

Jackson rolled his eyes. "Hippie music," he replied. "Alright, compromise." He scanned the stations until he found one playing 80s music. "Hopefully it's something that we'll both hate."

Lisa didn't have the heart to tell him that she didn't mind 80s music. He probably didn't, either. She drove, listening to a staple of 80s music, Soft Cell. _Isn't that always the way? _she mused, singing along with "Tainted Love" in her head. _'Oh my god, this song is about me!' _she mocked internally. Girls had that ability to listen to any song about any kind of relationship and somehow make it fit their scenario perfectly, but Lisa refused to make any connection to Jackson and the word 'love', for either of him.

She wasn't entirely sure how she felt about Jackson, but she knew it wasn't love. Attraction, sure. Interest, maybe. Not love. She also knew that if she asked Jackson if he loved her, he would laugh in her face and probably comment on the female-based, emotion-driven logic of taking the word 'care' and turning it into 'love'.

_You still went straight to thinking about Jackson when you heard the word 'love', you __**female**__._

Lisa smirked. Her little inner voice was starting to sound like him. It probably shouldn't have amused her, but it did. She glanced at Jackson out of the corner of her eye. He was slumped in his seat, staring straight ahead. It was like this man had stuck a crowbar in her head and pried his way in, immediately declaring himself the master, claiming her mind in the name of Jackson. Every thought she had had in the last two weeks had found its way to him, especially in the last few days. She could see why he was so good at his job. There was no thinking clearly after he had planted his little flag.

Lisa turned her gaze back to the road. She had told him that she needed time before she could answer, and she knew that he would give her all she needed. Hell, if she decided that there was no chance, he would probably rather she never brought it up again.

_Was_ there a chance for the two of them? Lisa frowned. She really didn't know. What kind of relationship starts 'boy stalks girl, boy threatens girl's dad's life, boy makes girl set up assassination of government figure, girl stabs boy in throat, boy tries to kill girl'? Ignoring the fact that it was unconventional to say the least, she wasn't sure it was even possible. They weren't even _friends_ right now. They were two strangers who depended on each other to stay alive. It was a bond of twisted convenience, nothing else.

Still...Lisa couldn't pretend that there wasn't a part of her that wanted to stretch that bond. She wanted to know this man next to her. He was fascinating and frightening, like a thunderstorm. She had spent so many years of her life playing it safe.

It was odd. Jackson was decidedly unsafe, and yet she felt more secure in this car with him than she had in a long time. From what she could tell, he was very successful at his job. She wondered if she was the first person in at least a while that had actually thwarted his plans. If that were true, then teamed up, how could they go wrong? Besides, admitting that there was a chance did not mean that she had to jump right into a relationship with him, right? She could just say that there is a chance that sometime down the line their bond could become much more than it was now. It didn't even mean that they were ever going to be together, just that there was a chance.

Lisa tightened her grip on the wheel with resolve. She was sick of second-guessing herself. She was tired of avoiding the issues that she needed to deal with. She was no longer going to avoid the truth. There was a chance that she was going to die. There was a chance that Jackson, Caleb, and Cheryl were going to die. There was a chance that her family thought that she was a terrorist. There was a chance for _something_ with Jackson, and she knew it.

* * *

**So, each chapter has been named after a song (as well as the title), but I usually don't pay attention to how much the lyrics of said song actually fit the content of the chapter. That said, the title of this chapter was chosen deliberately because there is a repeating line (I don't think you can technically call it a chorus) that fits both Jackson and Lisa incredibly well:**

_**"So don't play with me, cause you're playing with fire."**_

**This chapter is a turning point. It is the final in a series of self-discovery chapters for Lisa. I hope that I've done a good job so far in letting her come into her own, and show once and for all that she is no one to be messed with. She was a little shaky at the start- yes, she is praised for showing her strength at the end of the movie, but I always thought it was more of the strength of a caged animal that is finally lashing out, not a true inner strength. Now she knows who she is and what she has to do (maybe not the details, but definitely the general attitude). I had reservations with the timeline in that it has only been a few days since she left Florida, but I think with the amount of time she has had to spend on her own coupled with the information flying from all sides that she is allowed a sped-up journey.**

**Starting with chapter 10, the next few chapters will switch to a Jackson-centered point of view. We will finally get to really see how he is feeling about all of this.**

**/end author babbling**

**Reviewers get little Jackson brain flags!**


	10. The Boy Done Wrong Again

**Just a few notes for this chapter-**

**-Jackson is still getting along fairly well with his agency because I didn't want to turn this into another story of him on the run from his bosses for his failure.**

**-If you're really into this story and haven't added it to your story alert list, I would do so as it's probably going to have to change to an M rating (for language and violence mostly) within the next two chapters. As far as I know, you need a special filter to find M fics, so it won't post on the main ****_Red Eye_**** page anymore after the switch.**

**To my lovely reviewers:**

**trudes193- **Thanks for the good review. I love that you have a response within minutes of the chapter being posted. Makes me feel fuzzy. :D

**Medisha- **Yes, he has been slightly OOC for me, but he's working his way back to sanity. He's much more patient with Caleb, and he's just a _tad_ high strung right now. But I think he will explain it fairly well in this chapter. :)

**Brunette bulma- **Thanks! It's always nerve-wracking to write characters that already exist and that people are a fan of. I usually expect a lot of "OMG he would _never_ do that!1". He's not so sweet in this chapter, though- he's kind of a cranky pants right now.

**Jesscah- **Thanks for noticing! I re-wrote Lisa's thoughts about Jackson near the end probably 12 times, and still gave it a tweak before posting. As you're probably aware, thought processes are hard to write- our brains just don't like to be linear.

**SparklesFranqula- **A new reviewer! Thanks for the support. Yes, the fact that you can include narratives in writing both helps and hurts the story. It helps to have more realistic dialogue since the character doesn't have to verbally express everything that they're thinking, but it hurts because while in a movie you can have clips of pretty scenery and general downtime, a story tends to drag on if you write all about the trees and whatnot (I'm looking at _you_, J.R.R. Tolkien).

**EmpireX- **Another new reviewer! Christmas in March for little Orlha. As for a new chapter, obviously it's "ask and you shall receive" at the moment.

**Onward!**

* * *

**Chapter 10: The Boy Done Wrong Again**

Jackson opened his eyes and turned over on the bed. He couldn't sleep- a thousand thoughts were swimming in his brain at a rapid rate, all screaming to be heard. Silence often had this effect on him. He had fallen asleep in the car not long after they had left the restaurant, but there was music playing then. There was the movement of the car. These little things that would annoy most people had the opposite effect on him. Often, his mind was at its calmest when he was distracted.

He envied Lisa, sound asleep next to him. She had been through as much as he had, maybe even more, and sleep still seemed to come so easily for her. He rolled onto his back, turning his head to look at her sleeping form. They had checked into a motel two hours ago. Thankfully, she hadn't questioned why he had gotten a single room- he was tired of the constant questions that streamed from this woman. And when it wasn't the questions, it was just a look she gave him that simply asked "Why?"

Jackson was not used to having to explain his every action. He was accountable to very few people in his life, and every single one of those people knew where he was coming from. They were familiar with the work that he did. He couldn't blame Lisa for always questioning- she couldn't know what the life was like and the reasons behind what he did. He didn't blame her, but he was still sick of it. His not having to explain that he paid for a single room because it would look odd to get a double was like a breath of fresh air.

He wanted a cigarette, mostly because he knew that he couldn't. His lung was not fully healed, and it wasn't a good idea to infect the wound with chemicals and tar. He hated not being in control, and itched like crazy to just suck down _one_ cigarette out of spite.

He wondered where Caleb and Cheryl were. He hadn't heard anything from them, but he knew they could handle themselves if the Russians got there before they could get out. They would make it out alive, but at what cost? A big scene, and their life as they knew it was over. The guilt gnawed at him when he thought about them having to uproot everything because of him and his failures, especially Caleb.

As the oldest, Jackson had gotten used to protecting Caleb. He had gotten them through the last eleven years of their lives, not without difficulty, and it was beyond frustrating to accept that the tables were turned at it had been Caleb taking care of him for the past two weeks. The fact was made harder knowing that it was his own fault. He had gotten soft and allowed Lisa to overtake him on the plane, and weakly succumbed to his own rage when he chased her down. He knew that he should have counted his losses and left her alone. He would still be in the same situation with Robert and the Russians, and still have the outstanding need to end Keefe's life, but at least Caleb and Cheryl would be out of it where they belonged _and_ he wouldn't be here with Lisa, trying to figure out how to beat the DHS on top of everything else.

Jackson turned again. Another thought that plagued him was _how_ Caleb and Cheryl could have gotten involved with this latest development. They all worked under pseudonyms and had since they first started. How had-

"Jackson?" He sighed. Apparently Lisa wasn't as asleep as he thought.

"Hm?" he replied, turning to face her back. She rolled over to meet his eyes.

"What's wrong?" Jackson ran a hand through his hair.

"Just thinking. Go to sleep." She frowned.

"About what?" she asked. Jackson clenched his jaw. _Always questions..._

He knew that she couldn't help or have anything that meaningful to say, but he still felt an obligation to give her some kind of answer. She was a part of all of this now. "Caleb and Cheryl shouldn't be involved in any of this. It's not their fight."

Lisa furrowed her eyebrows. "Hasn't Cheryl been involved the whole time?"

"She got the plane tickets for me, but she just happened to work for the airline," he replied. That wasn't uncommon. His agency had someone on the inside of every major airline and other occupations for similar scenarios, but the insiders usually weren't active. This was because it was harder for someone with a permanent job to take extended vacations. The Keefe job was a perfect example. A normal person wouldn't ever be able to take off for eight weeks.

"Caleb thinks that she is still working with you," Lisa said. Jackson frowned. Cheryl hadn't worked with him in years, even before she and Caleb quit. She had worked with...Jackson groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. How could he have forgotten? "Jackson?" Lisa asked, her eyebrows furrowing in worry.

"Remember that phone call I got on the plane?" Jackson asked her, and when she nodded, he continued. "That was Cheryl. She was the one who told me it was a go." He scowled. "It was odd, but I guess I didn't think much of it. I can't think of any reason she would make that call unless she was working for Robert." He noticed Lisa's shocked face, and felt like he knew what she was thinking. "We don't work under our real names. Cheryl would have had to tell him what they were, which she wouldn't do. She would have had to send Russians after me when I was in her own house, which she wouldn't do." Lisa looked satisfied with his explanation, for once.

"Well, who else knows your names?" she asked, yawning.

"Just the higher ups," Jackson told her. "They have no reason to want me dead."

"But you failed."

Jackson laughed humorlessly. "Yes, I did, thank you. You watch too many movies. Sometimes we fail, but unless we royally screw up or betray our agency or our clients, no one puts a hit out or anything like that." He was confident that he hadn't been betrayed by any superiors. Who did that leave?

"Well, I told the government your name. The police report was probably printed somewhere, especially since it was decided that I was lying. He probably got it from there and just looked for you," Lisa suggested. "I mean, _I _found you, and I'm not a professional...whatever you are." Jackson remained silent. He had to admit that Lisa _did _have something useful to say, because what she had suggested made more sense than any option he had come up with.

Jackson closed his eyes. It actually made _perfect_ sense because it fit with the theme. He gave Lisa his real name, which was why Caleb and Cheryl were involved. He never should have done it, and it served to rub more salt in his wounds. Caleb and Cheryl's lives and livelihoods were at stake because he had succumbed to weakness. He had made so many mistakes during this job, and now three more people were paying the price.

He sat up, flung his legs over the side of the bed and buried his face in his hands. He heard Lisa questioning him, but blocked her out. This woman...he had met so many women in his work, women who were more clever, more attractive, and not nearly as frustrating, but this woman had somehow derailed him. Every mistake that he had made in the past two weeks were because of these undefined feelings he had for her.

"Jackson?" He still didn't respond, massaging his temples. Why did she have this effect on him? Why did she make him completely ineffective, mocking everything that he was by merely existing? Everything about her was distracting- her pretty face, her tiny, fragile, but seductive body, her sweet voice, her complex personality, her intoxicating scent- all of it.

Jackson felt her hand on his shoulder, and instinctively grabbed it with his own, pulling her away from him. He made the mistake of turning around and upon seeing the look of pain on her face, knew that he squeezed her hand harder than he had intended. He immediately released her and stood up.

"Sorry," he muttered, "just...leave me alone. Go to sleep or something." He switched on the lamp next to the bed and walked to his bag, sifting through his belongings. He pulled a bottle of sleeping pills from the bag, dropping two into his hand. He knew it was the only way that he was getting any sleep. He turned to offer the pills to Lisa, but she had already turned away. He sighed. He knew that he was constantly hurting her, but it couldn't be avoided. He wasn't ready to give her everything that she asked of him.

Jackson got himself a glass of water, and swallowed the pills. With every answer he gave her, Lisa had three more questions. He had never met anyone so anxious to understand him, and he wasn't okay with it. He had never been open, with few exceptions, and he wasn't ready to share himself with her. He wasn't suspicious of her motives. He knew that she couldn't turn him over to DHS in return for her innocence- she had sealed her fate by killing that agent. He trusted her, but she seemed to want more from him. He had no idea what or how to give it to her.

He lay back on the bed and looked at her again. In some ways, he had been so wrong about her. He thought that she would be easy to control, that the only way she knew how to take care of herself was through self-imposed isolation. Take her out of her comfort zone, and she would be putty. It wasn't the case. This woman was exceptionally strong. He knew the basic story behind her scar, and he could guess the rest. He knew that he hadn't helped matters in the least by turning her into a victim yet again and had assumed he was condemning her to more years of therapy and isolation.

However, when he was tending her sprained wrist, he had seen most of her naked skin from the waist up. He finally saw many of the bruises and marks that he had left on her. They were faded, and he knew that the only remaining bruises would have been the most severe. It reminded him of the way she had fought back, picking herself up each time he attacked, and throwing it back in his face.

Jackson knew that often, re-opening old wounds hurt more than the original injury. He had put her through what was probably the worst physical and emotional pain she had experienced, and yet here she was, by choice, trusting him with her life. He had seen her in a few moments of weakness since she had arrived, but more often, he was met by a will as strong as his had been. It was as though during that flight, she had begun to drain his strength and taken it for herself.

As he stared at her, he finally began to drift off. If they were going to stay alive, he had to get his shit together. He had to be strong again, but she couldn't go back to being helpless. He could only hope that they could find a happy medium, and soon.

When Jackson opened his eyes again, he was greeted with the a clean fragrance. Lisa had obviously showered already. He turned over and saw her in her jeans and bra, struggling to re-bandage her arm. He had to smile when he saw how hopeless she looked. He guessed that she had just showered with her bandages on since as far as he knew, she still did not know how to seal them correctly. It looked like she had successfully wrapped her wrist, but she was not able to wrap her left arm with the splint hindering her right hand. Poor thing looked like a broken marionette.

Jackson pulled himself into a sitting position. "Come here," he said. Her head snapped around to look at him, but she walked to him with a surprising lack of questions. Lisa sat on the bed near him, holding out her arm as she allowed him to examine the wound. "It's looking good," he said, wrapping the bandages. "Caleb will have to take out the stitches, but I think you can get away with changing the dressing less frequently." Lisa nodded, looking at him expectantly. Jackson knew that she wanted some explanation for last night, but he wasn't going to give her one. Instead, he stood up and grabbed his bag, walking into the bathroom.

Jackson stripped down and got in the shower. He didn't bother sealing his bandages either, because he knew that he would just have to change them before they left. He did the math in his head. They had been driving a little over five hours, which meant that they had about nine left, ten with stops for gas and food. They could cut some time by driving through fast food restaurants, which would also have the added benefit of keeping Lisa out of public.

He wondered why Marie wanted to see him. Keefe still needed to be killed, but what did that have to do with him? He was never meant to take the job in the first place, let alone be the only one who could take care of it. Did she have another job for him? He was hardly in top form. She must just want some kind of debriefing, to figure out exactly what happened.

Jackson could handle that. Get to Oklahoma, figure out a plan along the way, take care of business with Marie, finish this thing with Lisa, and go home. Back to his relative solitude. His life was not unlike Lisa's in many ways. He also buried himself in work. He also did not go out with friends, mostly because it was easier not to have them. Friends meant questions when you disappeared for lengths of time and even more questions if you disappeared permanently. If you were unattached, there was no investigation when you just went missing. Jackson was an expert at making friends for a night. He could go to a bar, have a great time with strangers, and then walk away. It wasn't a bad life, really. He had enough money that he could just wait for jobs to come in and he didn't have the drama that came with a social circle.

He had to admit that he was lonely sometimes. There was a difference between choosing to be alone and just being alone because you had no one. He formed the occasional bond with colleagues, but they all knew it was sometimes a bad idea. Rick had lived in New York as well, and he and Jackson had actually been friends back when they were both low levels. The last Jackson saw him, he was lying dead on Joe Reisert's floor as Jackson bled from his bullet wounds right next to him. No one in the outside world would miss Rick. There was no one to claim his body and give him a funeral. His ashes were mixed with the other unknowns, waiting to be disposed of. Or maybe they already had been. Jackson didn't know, and he didn't really care.

* * *

Jackson eyed Lisa as he drove down the freeway. She had been very quiet, seemingly lost in thought. It was fine with him. He preferred just half-listening to the radio and remaining quiet.

"What was last night about?" she finally asked, turning off the music. Jackson shook his head, turning it back on. He did not want to talk about it. Why couldn't she respect that? Lisa again switched off the radio and stared at him pointedly.

Jackson rolled his eyes. Caleb had definitely gotten to this woman. He had no idea how many times his brother had done the same thing- remain quiet until Jackson got so uncomfortable that he ended up telling him what he wanted to know. It wouldn't work this time- too bad for her.

As the silence ticked on, Jackson sighed, thoroughly frustrated. Maybe if he distracted her with something else, she would get over it. "Do you still want to know how I got away?" he asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.

Lisa looked surprised. "Yes," she replied. Jackson shrugged.

"Well, I had someone waiting for me at the airport, which is how I got to your dad's house," he explained, "and they were waiting outside. They're the ones who took my guy."

_Jackson lay on the floor, watching as Joe and Lisa walked out. With much effort, he pulled his phone from his pocket and called Jeff, who was still waiting in out front. "Quick. We're alone," he croaked out, choking on the blood that was rising to coat his throat. Within seconds, the man was in the house, carefully and quietly lifting Rick. 'Call Jessica,' Jackson said as Jeff carried Rick out of the house, referring to Cheryl._

"I told the guy to tell Cheryl what was happening. I knew she would get Caleb."

_Before long, Jackson was lifted in the ambulance and on his way to the hospital. The EMT's identified him through the ID in his wallet. As such, they kept calling him Jim, telling him to stay with them. Jackson struggled to remain conscious as they drove. He prayed that Cheryl could get to Caleb in time and that his brother would know exactly what to do. He knew he didn't have to worry when the doctor met the ambulance at the hospital._

"Caleb was part of this idea to train our people in medicine so we could avoid hospitals. One of the men he met at school, Thomas, works in Miami." Jackson grinned. "At Jackson Memorial, which Caleb thought was a goddamn riot." Lisa smiled. "Thomas declared me dead. He smuggled me back to his house that night and kept me alive while Caleb jumped the next flight to Miami. They operated on me, and then Caleb took me to Minnesota."

_Jackson was jostled awake. He was completely numb. He saw that he was being loaded into a van and watched Caleb setting up his IV's.'Drive carefully,' he ordered Jeff, sitting on the floor of the van next to Jackson. If they got pulled over, they were dead. If Jackson's wounds opened, he could be dead. Jackson watched Caleb inject a syringe of liquid into his arm, and felt himself lose consciousness again._

"My guy was traded for me, and Thomas made sure that his cremation was expedited through an 'error'. They're so busy there that an accidental early cremation is considered one of those horrible mistakes, but it's not a total surprise when it happens."

Lisa had remained silent through his story, looking mildly shocked. "Why didn't you just tell me?" she asked, "Why the secrecy?"

Jackson couldn't help but be slightly amused. He just explained that there were people in his agency hiding even in hospitals, and that they had knowingly and crudely disposed of a man's body with no regard, and all she seemed to care about was that she hadn't been told earlier. She was starting to sound like the people that he worked with.

"We like secrecy," he replied sarcastically.

Lisa rolled her eyes. "I'm tired of it," she said. "You keep everything from me. You tell me that you, Caleb, Cheryl, and God knows who else have been planning on how to help me, but you haven't once _included_ me in any discussion. I want to be part of it."

Jackson scoffed. "I didn't realize that you had experience in killing government officials, taking on assassins, and making someone completely disappear off the grid," he snapped. Lisa slumped in her seat, defeated, but Jackson wasn't finished. "How does this sound? You let the people who know what they're doing figure this out, and you learn to do what you're not so good at, and just _listen_ for once. Maybe you'll get out of this alive."Jackson sighed, softening. "If you trust me, Leese, you'll stop questioning everything that I say."

Lisa's eyes flared. "I _do_ trust you," she spat. "I ask because I want to know what's going on in your head. _You_ don't trust _me_." Jackson resisted the urge to drop his head against the steering wheel. _Why do women always want to __**talk**__? _Talking about your feelings was pointless. It didn't fix things- it just let one more person know the problem.

"You were the one talking about chances," Lisa continued, "I don't _know_ you, Jackson. I want to know who you are." Jackson ran a hand through his hair, frustrated.

"Then ask me real questions," he replied. "Details about the plan aren't going to help you." He hated to admit it, but Lisa had a point. He was attracted to her, and there were times he imagined what it would be like to be _with_ her. He couldn't really expect her to reciprocate when all she had to go on was his behavior on the plane and in the last few days. If he wasn't able to give her some kind of idea of who he really was, then there was no point wasting time thinking that they would ever be together.

"Okay. Tell me about your parents," she responded.

_Fuck._

* * *

**Am I the only one who noticed that Jackson looked confused when he saw who was calling him in the scene on the plane before takeoff? I decided to make my own explanation for it.**

**The sooner you review, the sooner you find out why Jackson doesn't want to talk about his parents.**


	11. Unfathomed Reminiscence

**Wow, big thanks to all of my reviewers! I couldn't keep the smile off my face when I read them, and it inspired me to write even faster. I hope you all enjoy this chapter.**

**trudes193- **I've never seen Retreat...never heard of it before you asked it, actually. Looks interesting- I'll have to check it out. And I loved your review- you'll just have to wait and see if your fears turn out to be true.

**Jesscah-** I've heard guys say that to me all the time- it seemed like a very Jackson mindset to me. Of course, they say it more like "The problem with you women is that you just like to complain. Men like to fix the problem. If you don't want a solution, don't talk to me." As for the phone thing, I'm really annoying to watch movies with because I just pick and pick at the little details (why is this happening, etc).

**Medisha- **You've been totally spoiled, because I usually update this story in the middle of the night here- like this one! :D The running of hands through hair is my _favorite_ guy-thinking habit. And yes, Cillian doing it would be difficult to resist!

**EmpireX- **Hope the carpet turned out nice and clean. I'm with you with the tiptoe around the tulips fics. I need some blood and guts, filthy language, and some dirty behavior or it's just not fun sometimes.

**CloverX11- **I'm horrible at beating around the bush. Hope you continued to enjoy the story as much as you did the first chapter.

**Brunette bulma- **You're right, that's a completely reasonable interpretation. I saw more "what the fuck?" in his face, but it's just my opinion. :) You are totally welcome to share the story on Facebook- it would be an honor. Let me know what people think unless they hate it. And by the way- everytime I read your screenname, it reminds me of a conversation I had with my ex about Dragonball Evolution where I ranted on and on about how Bulma's hair is BLUE. Your name always makes me smile.

**On with the angst!**

* * *

**Chapter 11: Unfathomed Reminiscence**

"My parents?" Jackson groaned. _For all the things for her to start with..._He thought about saying no- not because he didn't want to talk about it- he didn't- but because of all people, he didn't want Lisa to know this story. Any kindness she had showed him would disappear. He would be back to being a monster to her.

But he knew that was precisely why he had to tell her. If he really wanted her to give him a chance, he knew he had to give her all (or at least more of) the facts. If she took off running, it was for the best. But, it would be on his terms. "Alright. I'll tell you if you promise me two things. One- you don't interrupt me with questions, and two- when I'm done, don't press for more. Deal?" Lisa thought for a moment, and nodded.

Jackson didn't say anything at first. He had never told anyone about his parents before. The people who knew had been involved at some point. _Where do I even start?_ "I guess they were normal parents for the most part. Dad was a cop, Mom was a kindergarten teacher. Growing up was great. Normal small town stuff, I guess." Jackson laughed. "_Tiny _town, actually. Maybe a thousand people. Caleb and I spent a lot of time with our dad, especially at the range. We got our first guns for our 13th birthday. Dad was a _huge_ gun nut."

Jackson grinned. His mom had been so pissed about it. She and his dad had argued for so long that it was too late to go to the diner for dinner, and they had sandwiches instead.

"When I was 15, my dad got in a pretty bad car accident," he continued. "He couldn't walk well, and they dismissed him from the force. Well, he got bitter, which I get, I guess." Jackson's face flushed. "Leese, it's kind of a cliché. Are you sure you really want to hear this?" He sighed when she nodded.

"He drank. He got violent, starting beating the shit out of my mom fairly often. Never touched me or Caleb...probably because we would hit back. I never understood why she didn't fight back."

Jackson frowned. He had asked his mom a few times why she allowed his dad's abuse. She always said the same thing: 'He's going through a hard time, Jackson.' He hated her for that. He remembered all the nights he would lay in his room, listening to the screams and her cries, and resent her for every moment of it. Why was she so weak? Why didn't she leave? He would have gone with her, and he knew that Caleb would as well. The brothers had talked about it frequently. They would have left on their own, but they couldn't abandon her, even if they despised her for allowing the abuse.

He glanced at Lisa, who was looking at him in horror. He wondered if she wanted to ask why he and Caleb never helped her. "It was her fight, Leese. It's hard to explain...it's just...she was supposed to be stronger than that. They argued a lot before, and she had never backed down. Suddenly it's like she's a doormat, and how can you help someone like that?" He could tell that his explanation didn't help her understand at all, but he couldn't help that. She wasn't there, and she couldn't know what it was like for the brothers.

"It went on for a year, and I just...I don't know, I snapped. I was tired of hearing her screams. They were like nails on a chalkboard. I mean, do you have any idea what it's like to listen to someone scream and cry and see the bruises and blood, and _know_ that this person, this person you used to respect and love, isn't ever going to help herself?" Lisa put her hand on his, but Jackson yanked it away. "No, I don't care," he snapped, "I didn't pity her. I despised her. I despised him. I hated who they both had become- fucked up, pathetic versions of the people they had been."

Jackson could remember it like it was yesterday. _Caleb and Jackson came home from a party. Caleb was still on the phone with his girlfriend and stayed in the garage, telling Jackson that he would be inside in a minute. Jackson walked into the house and saw his mom pinned against the wall, tears and blood streaming down her cheeks. The crippled shell of his dad was yelling in her face about how she thought he was weak. He would show her how strong he was. Jackson shook his head and walked right through the room, past the scene without a glance. 'No, I'll show you how weak you really are. Both of you,' he silently swore to himself. Jackson walked calmly into his bedroom and grabbed the gun he had received three months prior, walking back to the living room. 'This shit ends now.'_

_Jackson entered the room as his dad struck his mom in the face, sending her crashing to the floor. Without hesitation, he fired two bullets into the man's heart, feeling nothing but satisfaction as the body hit the ground. He did the asshole a favor by putting him out of his misery. Jackson turned and pointed the gun at his mom, rolling his eyes as she cowered in fear._

"I shot him," he told Lisa, "Just killed him right there." Lisa's jaw dropped.

"So you weren't joking..." she murmured. Jackson smiled a bit.

"Pretty good memory, Leese," he commented, assuming that she was referring to his comment in the bar about killing his parents.

"So, what happened to your mom?" Lisa asked. Jackson gave her a warning look, silently reminding her of her promise to not ask questions.

"_Was that so hard?" he screamed at her as he heard Caleb yelling for him to put the gun down. His brother must have heard the gunshots, and was running toward him. Jackson turned to look at Caleb, keeping the gun on the trembling woman. "Why? She's a goddamn __**coward**__!" he spat, turning back to stare at her. Just as he expected, she said nothing, just cried._

_Jackson flinched when he felt Caleb's hand on his arm. "Jackson...look at me," Caleb calmly said. "Put it __**down**__. Killing her won't help anything." Jackson grimaced, and dropped his arm to his side with a frustrated sigh. He tossed the gun on the ground in front of his mom. "Fuck you for letting it get this far," he hissed at her._

_His mom got to her feet. "Leave," she ordered. "Get out of here. I'll tell the cops I did it." Jackson clenched his jaw in rage._

"_Why would you do that?" Caleb asked her as Jackson expressed his opposition to her asinine proposal._

"_Do you think any of us can get away with this?" she asked, picking up the gun. "He's still a cop." Jackson knew she was right. They could tell the authorities everything that had happened, but when it boiled down to it, they were civilians who had shot a respected police officer. His 'retirement' didn't matter one bit- in fact, it would probably get him sympathy._

"_No way," he replied. "I did it, and I'll deal with it." His mom pointed the gun at him, a rage in her eyes that he hadn't seen in many years._

"_Caleb, get him out of here!" she yelled, crossing the room to the phone. Jackson protested, but found himself getting dragged toward the front door. He struggled to stay there, but ultimately lost._

_As he was pulled out the door, he heard her say over the phone, "This is Cathy Rippner. I just killed my husband..."_

"She took the fall for me. Tried to claim battered woman defense. The court ruled against her because he was physically handicapped, and she never tried to get away with him the legal way...restraining orders and whatnot. She was sentenced for 15 years, but they let her out on parole a few years ago." Jackson paused. "She made it clear that she wants nothing to do with me or Caleb."

Lisa frowned. "I'm sorry," she said.

Jackson shook his head. "I'm not," he snapped. "You know...after it happened, I waited for it to hit me that I had killed my dad and my mom was in prison for it. But it never really did. He wasn't my dad anymore. She wasn't my mom. As far as I was concerned, they were both dead."

Lisa's hand found its way to his again, and this time, he didn't pull away.

"Caleb and I went to live with our uncle, who, we found out, worked for the agency. When we were out of college, we joined, and that's it." The two sat in silence. Lisa was obviously taking in everything she had heard.

"If I don't ask questions, can I say something?" she asked quietly. Jackson thought she was being sarcastic, but when he glanced at her, he could see in her eyes that she was really asking permission. She seemed to understand that it was a big deal that he told her any of this, and for some reason, it helped put Jackson at ease.

"I think that it bothers you more than you admit," Lisa said. Jackson said nothing, and she continued. "I think it affected you a lot, actually." Jackson knew he should probably tell her to stop trying to analyze him, remind her that she wasn't Dr. Phil, but he didn't. He knew what was coming. Caleb had tried to do the same thing, as had his uncle. "I think that's why you're a bad shot, and that's why you make jokes about them- didn't you tell me dark humor was a coping mechanism? Well, so is hatred. I think you convinced yourself that you hated your mom so it wouldn't bother you that she was getting hurt, to avoid having to confront your dad. By hating both of them, you could avoid getting involved, and when you did get involved, it was easy. And it was easy to take when your mom disappeared from your life because of your actions...wasn't it?"

Jackson blanched. If it wasn't so irritating, he might be impressed with her. He had wondered the same thing a few times, but dismissed it. Truth is what you tell yourself, so as far as he was concerned, he _did_ hate them eventually. The reasons why didn't matter. "I think that hatred is why you are so good at your job. You see your targets the same way that you saw your mom. They're weak, not unable to help themselves, but unwilling." She paused, obviously expecting Jackson to argue. He didn't because he was well aware that she was right. "That's why you weren't very angry when I tried to sabotage you on the plane." He knew that was probably right as well. Obviously, he hadn't sat and analyzed why, but as the plane traveled toward Miami, he had respected Lisa more and more. He couldn't exactly be thrilled that she was trying to ruin his plans at every turn, but he had been impressed by the way she fought back.

"I think it's why you got so angry when I accused you of setting me up. It reminded you of your mom taking the fall for what you did. I think you still blame yourself for it." That, Jackson hadn't expected. Yes, it had made him angry when she said those things to him, but he hadn't been sure exactly where the anger came from. As far as he had been concerned, it was an odd moment of irrational rage. He was so lost in thought that he almost missed Lisa's next statement.

"I think that's why we're here, why you're helping me. This is your redemption for what happened to your mother. When she finally stood up for herself, it sealed her fate. Like me."

Jackson sat in stunned silence. He noticed that Lisa's hand was still holding his when she gave it a light squeeze.

"That was...very astute, Leese," he finally got out, although it was colder than he had meant to be. He couldn't look at her. Her analysis was brief, but it left a lot for him to think about. When Caleb had asked him why he wanted to help her, Jackson hadn't been able to give a satisfactory answer. 'Because I do,' had been his response, and Caleb had thankfully interpreted it as 'I don't want to talk about it.' He hadn't been lying, either. Until now, the only reason he wanted to help Lisa was that he didn't want to see her dead because of something he had done. It hadn't made sense, because there were a _lot_ of people dead because of him.

"You were right, Jackson," Lisa said with a laugh. "I feel like I know you a lot better now." Jackson grinned in spite of himself. She was probably right about that, too. "Now I just need to figure out why you're so obsessed with the truth."

Jackson shrugged. "That's an easy one," he replied. Lisa waited for him to go on. "My girlfriend in college cheated on me. First love, broken heart, all that shit." He ran a hand through his hair. "It was probably for the best, though. I actually thought I wanted to _marry_ her." He laughed bitterly. Jackson had known for a long time now that marriage was not in his future, and he was more than okay with that. He knew now that he hadn't loved her, but it didn't make the pain of betrayal any less harsh.

"Oh," Lisa replied, sounding a little let down. He looked at her quizzically. "Well, that's it? I thought it would be something bigger than that." She laughed. "That was what, seven years ago? Haven't you had enough good relationships to get over it yet?"

Jackson frowned. "I haven't had one since," he replied. "It's not a good idea in my line of work. You can either date someone and have them either wonder why you're always leaving- little hint: women hear 'business trips' and they think you're cheating- or you can make the mistake of telling them...I don't know anyone who's ever tried, or you can date someone from the agency. Also a big mistake. Typical office romance- it's all shop talk and 'oh my God, are they going to die today?' Plus, deception is part of our job...it makes trust difficult."

"Caleb and Cheryl managed it," Lisa retorted.

Jackson scoffed. "Caleb was an idiot," he told her, "Yeah, they're fine now, well, except for her lying about her double life, but for a while, it was a mess. That's why Cheryl transferred to Robert. Too much drama."

"So you're telling me you haven't had a girlfriend in _seven years_?" Lisa asked, looking at him in disbelief.

Jackson nodded. "I've had...nights," he admitted, blushing slightly. Not because he was ashamed, but because he doubted Lisa would understand. He had been with many nameless women, all attractive but he did not have feelings for any of them. They were just a convenience. He meant to explain further, but instead remained silent as the car behind him caught his attention. He looked in the rear-view mirror, and his eyes narrowed. The car behind them was too close, and there was plenty of room for them to pass. He sighed and moved to the left lane, hoping they were one of those drivers who just refused to pass and made the vehicle ahead of them move.

To his dismay, the blue car followed right behind him. He moved lanes again, and the car mimicked his actions. Jackson could hear Lisa talking next to him, but he automatically tuned her out as he confirmed that they were definitely being followed. There were two men in the car, both staring straight ahead. He could almost feel their eye contact in the mirror. Were these the Russians Cheryl had been talking about? _Two men?_ It would have been laughable if he didn't know that the men were highly trained and the woman next to him was highly not. She was a liability. Maybe.

Jackson pulled off at the next exit. If things were going down, he wasn't going to let it happen on the freeway with witnesses. Unsurprisingly, the blue car followed him. By this time, Lisa had realized that Jackson wasn't listening to her. She glanced in the passenger-side mirror.

"Are they following us?" she asked, nervous. Jackson nodded. He turned off the frontage road, leading the car onto a deserted-looking back road. Lisa began again, but he motioned for her to be quiet, analyzing the situation. The road was straight for as far as he could see.

"Leese, listen to me," he said, turning to her. He moved the seat back as far as it could go and shifted his legs over to the far left of the seat, turning on the cruise control. "I need you to move over here and take the wheel. Stay low. When you're here, I'm going to turn around. All you have to do is avoid crashing and listen to what I tell you to do."

Thankfully, Lisa seemed to understand that his tone was not one that invited questions, and quickly slid over to squeeze between Jackson and the steering wheel. It was a bit of a tight fit, but Jackson managed to maneuver so he was facing the car, his back to Lisa. He quickly tore off his coat and rummaged through his bag. "Now speed up as fast as you can go without losing control. Don't drive in a straight line, but don't be predictable. We _can't_ let them shoot the car." Bullet holes might pass in New York, but a car with Minnesota plates with bullet holes would attract attention in Missouri and Oklahoma. Lisa did as she was told, and Jackson braced himself with his thighs as the car started to sway somewhat violently.

He took a deep breath, rolling down the front and back seat windows on their side. "Ready?"

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**I hope Jackson's story wasn't too much of a cliché. Up next, I get to write my first action sequence! Review if you're ready to see Jackson get his game face on!**

**IMPORTANT: As a precaution, as of chapter 12, the chapter will be rated "M". If you haven't added the story to your alerts list and you don't usually check the "M" fics, I would recommend adding it now to avoid missing the next updates.**


	12. Together We Are Beautiful

**Thanks to all of my reviewers!**

**SparklesFranqula-** I know it was cliché, but it's going to play even more into the story later, so it kind of had to be written. When you think about it, it's kind of sad that a story like that has become cliché, don't you think? What kind of story did you have in mind? How he got his name? What he told his parents?

**trudes193-** Thanks for the support. Your review made me smile. But GASP- you weren't the first reviewer this time! :P

**Medisha-** I didn't really think you were complaining. I was just teasing you. :) Yeah, looking back on it you're right about Lisa's response being a little much. I think I was just in drama-mode when I wrote it and forgot that I wasn't writing some kind of formal paper with structure and word importance. And you're totally right- it was a big step for him. I decided that he dug himself into a hole by being a brat in chapter 10, so he was going to have to put on his big girl panties and just tell her.

**Brunette bulma- **I'm glad you liked it. Jackson's still not love-struck, but he is obviously warming up to her. I actually thought Lady Gaga's hair looked cute blue- it was better than that neon-yellow mess she's had in concert.

**Jesscah- **You have no idea how much it cracks me up that you commented on his girlfriend story. I had considered writing this huge betrayal "omg so horrible" thing for his issue with lying, but then I thought it would be fun if it were almost a non-event. "I choked you for lying to me because my girlfriend in college cheated on me." I hope my little chase is up to par, just for you!

**So the story is M now, but it's still fairly tame for what I have planned later. BLOOD AND GUTS TIME:**

* * *

**Chapter 12: Together We Are Beautiful**

"Move to the right," Jackson yelled over the roar of the wind raging through the open windows. The wind was so cold that he couldn't keep from shivering. He wasn't worried- adrenaline was kicking in, and he knew he wouldn't notice things like temperature in a moment. "We can't risk shooting out the back windshield!" He wrapped an arm around the headrest of the car as Lisa swerved.

This gave him the exact shot he needed and he opened fire with his Colt Gold Cup Trophy .45, blowing out the windshield of the blue car. He could see the passenger slump over in the seat, and could barely make out that half the man's face was now blown off. Lisa made no noises, but he could feel her tensed up against his back. He silently hoped that she wouldn't turn around- they were going much too fast for her to take her eyes off the road, and there was a difference between seeing a man get shot and seeing pieces of his face dripping from his skull.

He emptied the magazine, making sure the entire windshield was gone. He had considered aiming for the driver who was now hunched over, the top of his head barely showing as he struggled to keep the car on the road. Jackson knew that if he had shot the driver, the car would have easily gone off the road, but it would have left him with a shootout between himself and the passenger. It was much easier this way.

Jackson tossed the Colt to the passenger seat and transferred the one in his left hand to his right. "When this is over, I'm going to buy you the best goddamn ice cream sundae you've ever had," he said to Lisa, trying to calm her. "And the strongest sea breeze."

He knew the driver wasn't an immediate threat, unless he was trained well enough to handle high-speed driving with no windshield and presumably a few injuries- Jackson knew that he _had_ to have at least clipped him with his first 8 rounds, plus the flying glass shards. However, he couldn't risk the man losing control and taking the car into the ditch. Jackson and Lisa had to get out of there quickly and leave no witnesses- they couldn't afford to stop and go back to finish the guy off. He was so low that Jackson wasn't sure that he could hit him, and he couldn't afford to waste bullets. Maybe if the cars weren't swerving around...

He quickly noted that the car was completely behind and to the left. "Slow down a little, Leese. I want this guy to pass us. Don't let him get behind you." Jackson held his breath and rolled down the passenger window as a precaution. It would make for an easier shot as the blue car passed, but it would also make an easier shot for the driver. "Keep your head as far down as you can," he warned as the blue car started to gain. He aimed through the sight at the driver, who definitely noticed their decrease in speed. Jackson watched him turn his head. _Come on, asshole. Try to get a shot off._

As the cars moved closer to a side-by-side position, the driver predictably raised his gun, and along with it, his body. Before Jackson could line up his shot, the other man managed to fire. Jackson threw himself sideways, crouching against the passenger seat. He could hear Lisa scream and prayed she hadn't been clipped. Sitting back up, Jackson rapidly fired the entire magazine, watching the man jerk violently as the bullets penetrated through him to the window behind along with a coating of blood and brain matter. He heard Lisa whimper, and felt her body shaking. "Are you hurt?" he asked, unable to turn around to check.

"I'm okay," she replied, and Jackson had to strain to hear her meek voice. He watched as the blue car began to drift.

"Go!" he yelled as the car got closer to theirs. His body slammed violently against the seatback as the Lisa floored it. He watched through the back windshield as the blue car drove into the ditch and flipped. If the two hadn't been dead before, he knew that they definitely were after he saw the car explode into a ball of flame. Jackson scowled in distaste- they must have had some explosives with them. What were they going to do- bomb the motel Lisa and Jackson stopped at? _Amateurs._

The car began to decelerate to a more manageable speed. Jackson felt Lisa lean back, resting against his back. He could hear her breathe heavily, and let his head fall back, resting it on hers. The two said nothing, but continued to breathe almost in tandem as their adrenaline rushes faded. Jackson closed his eyes, tossing the second Colt to the passenger seat.

"Good driving," he offered, feeling his heart rate slowing again. He was no stranger to killing, but it was his first car chase in years, and definitely his first with an inexperienced person behind the wheel. He couldn't imagine how she was taking it. "Thank you," he said to her, snaking his arm backwards to clumsily wrap it around her waist. He felt her arm clasp over his. Despite her tendency to ask questions, Lisa had done exactly what he had said, and he knew that her quick acting had made a huge difference in the outcome of that little standoff. They were alive because she had trusted him.

The two drove like that for a few more minutes until Lisa finally pulled the car over. The two disentangled themselves and Jackson practically fell out of the car when he opened the door. He held the door open for her as she climbed out, and the two stared at each other for the first time since the incident. To Jackson, it felt like the first time that they had truly looked at each other. He had imagined to see Lisa's face full of terror, or at least some kind of shock over what had just happened. Instead, he saw something similar to admiration and relief. What surprised him the most was what he didn't see- tears.

Lisa put a hand on the back of his head and gently pulled him down so his forehead rested on hers. "You were great," she murmured. Jackson's eyes fluttered closed as she moved her head, pressing her cheek to his. He brought his hand up and tangled it in her short hair, curling his fingers to lightly grip the strands. She closed the remaining space between them with a tight hug, and Jackson buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply. He was enveloped in the scent that was Lisa, enhanced with her own adrenaline- a truly lethal combination. Even with the rush of their near death experience, Jackson still couldn't help but notice how good she felt pressed against him. Every curve of her body fit perfectly against him, and he tightened the grip on her hair to keep his hand from moving to even more desirable places.

They stayed in that position for what seemed like a comfortable forever, until Lisa kissed his cheek quickly. "We should probably go," she murmured. Jackson nodded, opening his eyes and releasing her hair so she could step back. He bit back a groan when she pulled away, and the sudden lack of her heat against him sent a chill racing through his body. They maintained eye contact for a few more seconds before Lisa turned and headed for the passenger-side door. Jackson slid back into the driver's seat, grabbing his bag to find two more magazines. He grabbed the two guns from the seat before Lisa got in, loading them. He put both on safety and stuck them in the glove compartment for easy access in case they were needed again.

As Jackson started the car again, he glanced at Lisa. She looked almost disappointed, which he found curious. It occured to him that he could have kissed her a few seconds prior. He wondered if she had expected it. There no denying that was something between them, and it definitely appeared mutual. For his part, he had moved past his anger toward her in that first week since the flight. Grudges had never suited him. He never had the motivation to plan revenge against people who had wronged him, and it was always easier to just accept that what was done was done.

When she had shown up at Caleb's, he was angry at first, but more because he was suspicious than because he didn't want to see her. Hell, he had been more angry at Caleb than her. He had thought she was leading the government to him as her final heroic act, and he could have wrung his brother's neck for allowing her to come. Things changed when he saw her gunshot wound, heard that her dad was dead- the suspicion was gone. He had known from the moment he removed the bandage and saw the infected wound with his own eyes that she was not a threat to him as he had originally assumed.

No, she was a threat to him in many other ways. She was a threat to his comfort zone and his way of life. Almost by accident, she had wormed her way into his life and was now involved to a point of no return. They knew personal information about each other. They had killed together. She had gotten closer to him than anyone other than Caleb, and it both unnerved him and made him feel relieved, almost happy in a way. He spent so many years of his life putting up barriers, daring any brave soul to try and fight their way through.

Lisa had done that, even before they had spoken their first words to each other. It had started during his surveillance. He had been there for some of her most intimate moments, seen her in a state of being that as far as he could tell, no one else had seen. From what he had seen, she worked so hard to keep people at arm's length, which he later found out included her father. He was well aware that he had seen her completely naked, not in the literal sense- which he also had, although he had been gentlemanly enough to avert his eyes when he realized that she was undressing- but completely stripped of her guards. It was just another way in which they were alike. Both were people who had been burned, and for their own reasons, they closed themselves to most of the world.

Maybe that explained the attraction to her. He saw so much of himself in this petite woman that he was sure he knew her in a unique way. He felt that he understood her, that in some ways, they were kindred spirits. They were two lost souls in a battle of "me against the world." They both had their particular people that they were close to- for her, it was her father, and for him, Caleb, but for the most part, they were alone. And now, they had somehow inexplicably banded together, and it had become _them_against the world. Jackson had to admit that he didn't hate having her tag along and ask her incessant questions as much as he told himself.

"I want my sundae now," Lisa interrupted his thoughts, giving him a teasing look. Jackson grinned.

"I'll find you something," he replied, pulling back onto the freeway. He glanced at the clock. 4:30. According to his schedule, they were going to arrive at the ranch at about 9:00. He had no idea where they were going to find a place with a good sundae in December. He studied Lisa. She was coping beautifully so far, but he could see in her eyes that she was a little shaken. It was unreasonable to expect that she was used to the kind of event they had just experienced. He knew they could drive straight through and make it to the ranch just fine, but he wondered if it might be better for her to relax a bit while it was still just the two of them- comfort of the somewhat familiar.

"How does this sound?" he proposed, "We can either finish the trip tonight, or we could stop at a grocery store, get your ice cream and all the fixings for a good sea breeze, and stay at another motel."

Lisa thought about it. "Isn't it dangerous?" she asked. "What if there are more of them?"

Jackson stroked his chin. "It might be. Robert was working with two Russians in addition to his regular guys- that was probably them. They were probably rogue...like I said, this isn't typical. The whole faction wouldn't come after me- they know the agency wouldn't take kindly to it, and they can't afford to make enemies with us. Rogues are more forgivable." He shook his head. "No, I doubt there will be more. What I'm more worried about is how they found us." He sighed. "And I honestly have no idea how they did."

Lisa shrugged. "If you think it's safe, I could use a night off the road. And a great sea breeze." She smiled at him. "And maybe it's time that we come up with a plan for the feds." Jackson nodded.

"Okay, we'll stop in Joplin. It's about an hour away, and then we can head to Bennington in the morning."

Three hours and two sea breezes later, Lisa was laughing like she didn't know pain, and Jackson was amused.

"I really hated my job," she announced as she calmed down, laying on the bed. Her head dangled off the edge. Jackson sat on the floor, finishing her sundae.

"Not surprising," he replied, licking chocolate syrup from the spoon. "I probably would have punched most of those 'special needs' customers of yours in the face. No idea how you dealt with it."

Lisa laughed. "I was used to it. You know, people-pleaser." Her eyebrows furrowed. "I think I thought I deserved it for what happened. Like, I wasn't good enough to be treated with respect."

Two little sentences, and the refreshingly happy atmosphere was dark again. Jackson frowned. "You know that's bullshit, right?" he asked. Lisa nodded.

"Yeah," she replied, but she didn't sound entirely convinced. Jackson pulled himself to his feet and crossed over to the bed. He sat down again, leaning against the side of the bed. He turned his head to stare right at her.

"Leese, you need to stop punishing yourself," he said to her. He hated men like the one who had attacked her. One might be inclined to compare him to her rapist, but to Jackson, they were completely different. In all of their time together on the plane, he had made sure to _never_ give the impression that it was her fault that she was in the situation. _Well, sometimes bad things happen to good people. Like you. _He never considered Keefe a good man- there was so much that Lisa didn't know about him, so he couldn't really blame her for thinking what she did. He had made that statement solely for her, to remind her that despite the position she was being put in, she was _not_ a bad person.

He hadn't been surprised when she told him about the rape. It had been a slight shock that she was telling him, yes, but the story itself wasn't a surprise at all. When he had teased her about someone breaking her heart, he knew on some level that it wasn't the case. He had more hoped that it wasn't what he had thought, that she was a silly girl overreacting to some mildly depressing experience rather than a broken woman whose personal security had been seriously violated. He had seen so much of it. So many people, women in particular, robbed of their self-worth. He had seen what it could do to them, and worse, he had lived it.

Jackson sighed. Someday, he was going to have to come to terms with the fact that he was often part of what he hated, even though he knew the ends justified his actions. He could only rationalize it for so long. _Like father, like son. _He could keep telling himself that he was different, better, because he never specifically told the women he had come across in his job that they were worthless, but he knew damn well that his actions sent the same message. The difference between the man who had raped Lisa and Jackson himself was semantics, and it made him sick.

"I know," she said, smiling sadly. "And I will. I think I am, actually." She rolled onto her stomach and shimmied closer to him. "Thank you," she murmured and leaned forward, pressing her lips to his. It was insane- a few hours ago, Jackson would have welcomed her kiss. Now, it repulsed him. He still wanted it, of course, but he knew he didn't deserve it. He had known since the plane when it became more and more evident to him how special Lisa really was and how despicable he could be. Two little sentences, and things were different again.

Jackson turned his head away, "Stop," he said, getting to his feet. The look of dejection on her face stung him, but he knew he was doing the right thing. He knew he wasn't worthy of a woman like her, and while he wouldn't reject her if it was what she really wanted, he absolutely refused to allow it when she was intoxicated. The irony of how he felt now when compared to the way they met wasn't lost on him- he had gotten her tipsy and took advantage of her lowered guard. Even then, though, asking her for a drink wasn't part of his plan. It was an impulse on his part, a way to live out a tiny bit of his fantasy of the two of them before everything went to shit.

He knelt down by her again. "I'm sorry. Just...not tonight, alright?" Lisa rolled over onto her back. She didn't look sad anymore. Just irritated. Jackson got on the bed and lay down next to her, propping himself up on his elbows. Enough with his personal drama- he wanted the happy Lisa back.

"I thought you wanted to make a plan," he goaded her, grinning when she turned to look at him with excitement.

"Yeah!" she exclaimed, "I have an idea. Want to hear?" Jackson nodded, amused. "So, I was thinking that we could lure the feds to an old building, using me as the bait. Then we could have a huge shootout, but with only one shooter so they think it's just me. Then, we could blow up the _whole_ building, but escape out the back, obviously."

"Obviously," Jackson repeated, trying not to laugh.

"So they'll just think that I'm dead because who could survive that explosion, right?" she finished, looking at him expectantly. "Well?"

Jackson chuckled, running a hand through his hair. She was adorable like this. "Well, _if _they didn't completely surround the building and seal off our escape, don't you think they'll be a little surprised when they don't find pieces of a body?" he asked. "You'd need a nuke to incinerate someone _that_ badly that there wouldn't be anything left." Lisa opened her mouth, but Jackson covered her mouth. "We don't have any nukes, Leese."

Lisa was silent for a moment, but then she snaked her tongue out, licking his hand. Jackson pulled it away quickly with an exaggerated cry of disgust for her benefit. Sure enough, she laughed. "What if I led them on a car chase and then drove my car over a cliff?"

Jackson pretended to ponder it. "How are you going to get out of the car before it goes over, Jane Bond? If you jump out, they'll see you. Oh, and little fact- it's not easy to jump out of a car moving at a high speed if you plan on surviving."

Lisa scowled. "Then what?" she demanded. Jackson dropped his weight onto the bed, resting his chin on the back of his hands.

"That's the problem, Leese," he responded seriously. "It works a lot better if you have a body to trade. We don't have one."

Lisa thought hard, biting her lip. "Well, the morgue has unidentified bodies, right? What if I had to go to the hospital and what's-his-name switched us out, just like you and that guy?"

Jackson shook his head. "Too risky. We can't _plan_ on you getting injured enough to go the hospital with a great chance that your injuries could be fatal, and then pull the exact same stunt. It would be too suspicious if there just happened to be an early cremation, and it's not like the feds aren't going to guard you 24/7 while you're there. Plus, the morgue would have a missing body. That tends to lead to a lot of trouble."

Lisa sighed dramatically. "I don't know, then. I'm out of ideas, except for one that involves a speedboat...I can't drive those." Jackson chuckled. He was going to ask for the speedboat idea, but Lisa yawned widely. With the sugar high from the ice cream plus the vodka, she was already crashing. The earlier car chase probably had something to do with as well. He slid off the bed and scooped Lisa into his arms, moving her to the head of the bed. "We make a good team, don't we?" she murmured as Jackson pulled up the blankets to cover her.

"Yeah, we do," he admitted in amusement. One car chase and this girl was ready to get her camo and sniper rifle and kick some ass.

Jackson pulled one of the Colts from his bag and walked over to the chair in the motel room. He maneuvered the chair so he could have a good view of the front door while still keeping an eye on the window. The curtains were closed tightly, but he would still be ready to react to any noises from outside. He was far enough away from the window and close enough to Lisa that he could grab her and run if something was thrown through the glass. It would be stupid for them to try, since any sort of explosive wasn't exactly discreet and they would have one hell of a time getting away.

The silence was creeping up on him again, leaving him with only his thoughts. On one hand, Jackson knew that he was right. Those two men were likely the Russians, and they were almost definitely rogues. He knew, but it didn't relax him. He also knew that it would have been a better idea to go straight to the ranch, but he was sure Lisa needed a break first. If he was correctly assessing her behavior in the past few hours, she was rejecting the reality of her feelings. She was suddenly jumping into things like it was some kind of action movie, letting excitement and adrenaline replace fear and her own morals. Either that, or he had finally pushed her off the deep end, and she had a sudden development of blood lust, but he highly doubted it.

He didn't doubt that she had no sympathy for the men they had just killed, just like he heard no remorse in her voice when she spoke of the agents she had killed or Rick. One thing he had noticed about Lisa- she definitely was a woman who would do what she had to when pushed far enough. Jackson found himself wondering about her rapist again. He wondered if Lisa would take the experience back if given the chance, or if she realized how much stronger it made her. If Lisa hadn't been raped, would the Keefes be dead? Would she still have had enough fire in her to lash out at him, or would she have cowered like every other person he had come across?

Jackson absently ran his index finger along his bottom lip. Would Lisa remember in the morning that she had kissed him? Would she remember that he had refused to take advantage of her? Was it their first kiss, or their only? He groaned at how pathetic he was being. _Either you want a relationship with Lisa or you want her to realize how wrong you are for her- which is it, dipshit? _The answer to that was simple: he wanted a relationship with Lisa, but he also wanted her to understand that what she had seen on the plane wasn't a fluke. He could be a nice guy sometimes, but he was just as capable of being cruel if it suited his purpose. He wasn't anything close to a knight in shining armor- he just wasn't a very "good" man.

Mostly, he wanted Lisa to have a clear mind when- _if-_ she decided that she wanted to be with him. Even when she was sober, it was perfectly reasonable to assume that the attraction that she had toward him was just another adrenaline rush and motivated by the fact that they were stuck together for the time being- it's easy to sugarcoat things in order to cope with them. It was possible that when things calmed down, she would remember what a horrible person he could be. She would remember that he was a cold-blooded killer, and was inadvertantly responsible for her dad's death and the fact that she would never see her family again. He knew these things, but he was still dreading the day. Honestly, he was scared. He had allowed himself to get irresponsibly close, and he knew he no longer had enough self-control around her to keep himself from wanting so much more than they had. Worse, he had no idea how he was going to handle it when she inevitably walked away.

He groaned. His injuries were starting to hurt pretty badly, but he couldn't take his pills. They ruined his concentration, and that was something that he needed right now. Jackson tightly closed his eyes as he attempted to block out the pain. Between that, his thoughts, and the knowledge that they could very well still be in danger of an attack, it was going to be a long night.

* * *

**How was my first action scene? Personally, I despise guns- it tends to happen when you've had them aimed in your face. However, if I had the money, I would totally get a Gold Cup Trophy .45- they're so pretty!**

**Oh, and I have chapter 13 mostly written- shit is about to get REAL.**

**Review or I'll send Caleb on your ass- he's a sharpshooter, you know. You'll never see it coming.**


	13. The NeverEnding Why

**As always, thanks to my reviewers! A few of you seemed to really like my "threat", but it wasn't very effective. :P Over 100 people read the story in two days, and six took the time to say something. But it's okay- you guys make me feel like I have some kind of cult following! :D**

**Brunette bulma- **Glad you liked the little kiss. Obviously, there will be more in chapters to come.

**trudes193- **Ah, excuses. Kidding, your review is always appreciated no matter what order it comes in. I love how you seem to notice the nuances in a chapter- makes me feel like my work is appreciated. I'll be sure to check out your story. I just haven't had time to do much lately. Boo. Glad you liked Lisa's ideas, too- it was basically me writing down the ideas that have been running through my head while I try to decide what's going to happen, and Jackson got to play the logic part of my brain reminding me that I know nothing about staging deaths.

**Jesscah- **Yes, they're finally getting somewhere. If Jackson could just get over himself, they would be moving along faster. But since he's a bundle of complications that doesn't understand the meaning of the word "easy", he's not getting the girl. Yet. Glad you liked the action scene, and thanks as always for the supportive words!

**Medisha-** It makes me feel so special to know I made your Saturday! And what you said about Lisa's strength was exactly what I was going for- I think she showed signs of having a real strength, not just one that shown when she was backed into a corner. I've been trying to bring it out in her, and I'm glad you noticed. As for Jackson's behavior when Lisa was drunk- assassins can be gentlemen, too! :) Oh, and check what I wrote to trudes193 for a response to your comment about the action scene.

**empirex- **Thank you so much for that review. I always worried that the relationship isn't moving at the right pace, so reviews like yours are very welcome!

**SparklesFranqula-** I definitely have some hand-to-hand planned. Jackson can handle a gun alright if he has plenty of bullets and time, but he's going to have to use a knife eventually, and if that fails, some good old-fashioned fisticuffs. Your idea about his change from Jack to Jackson is intriguing- I'm already thinking about how to work the story into a later chapter. Right now, I'm torn between him actively being involved with an incident with a knife, or just being kind of death-obsessed as a kid to the point where others teased him about being "Jack the Ripper". Since he was 10 at the time, it makes the idea of him stabbing/slashing someone seem a little slim, unless it was an accident of some kind.

**And now for a chapter full of "WTF?":**

* * *

**Chapter 13: The Never-Ending Why**

Jackson jerked when he heard a cell phone ringing. He hadn't realized that he had drifted off. He didn't recognize the ring tone, but it was definitely coming from his bag. He reached into the bag and pulled out the phone, glancing at the screen. 'Jackson.' Was he still asleep?

"Yeah?" he greeted, his voice husky with sleep.

"Jackson?" He frowned.

"Jackson?" he repeated. It sounded like him. Must be a dream. He didn't usually get phone calls from himself.

The other line was silent for a moment. "Are you high?" the voice finally asked. Jackson shook his head, feeling like a complete idiot.

"Oh. What's up?" Jackson asked Caleb, rubbing his eyes and checking his watch. 3 in the morning, which meant it was 4 on the east coast. He narrowed his eyes. "Wait. Why do you have my phone?"

"Jackson..." Caleb said again, and the older brother immediately sobered, straightening in his chair. He knew this tone...it wasn't good.

"Hold on," he whispered, realizing that Lisa was still asleep in the same room. He grabbed his bag and key, and walked outside, hoping that she didn't wake up and panic at his absence, since he had nothing to write a note with. "What's wrong?" he asked, sitting on the curb near the car. He shivered in the cold night, chastising himself for not grabbing his coat.

"...it's Cheryl," Caleb said, sounding more and more upset. Jackson's heart quickened, and he paled.

"What happened?" he asked, swallowing hard. Were they attacked? Was she hurt, or worse, dead?

"It's _Cheryl_," Caleb repeated. Jackson was used to this. When Caleb was upset, he had a tendency to repeat his words as he struggled to get the next ones out.

"Caleb, what happened to Cheryl?" he asked firmly, trying to get his brother back to reality. Caleb let out a shaky sigh, and Jackson's dread continued to build as he waited for what was to come.

"She...it...she fucking _betrayed_ us, Jackson!" Caleb spat out, his voice rising at the end of his sentence. Everything froze. _Cheryl? CHERYL? _Jackson shook his head. _First things first. Focus._

"Are you alright, Caleb? She didn't do anything to you, did she? Where is she?" Jackson rambled. So many questions were flashing through his mind.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Except my fucking wife plotting to kill my brother, I'm goddamn fantastic," Caleb replied. "Stupid...bitch...thought I was asleep. I heard her talking to Robert. She told him the plan changed, and that she was bringing you to him. I'm in the _room_, and she's talking to him free as you please." Jackson ran a hand through his hair. How was this happening? Of all the contingencies he had planned for...this wasn't something he could have anticipated.

"Where is she?" he asked, simultaneously trying to adjust to the new information and keep Caleb on track. It was a losing battle- the endless torrent of questions continued to fight for priority.

"I hit her, knocked her out. She's tied up now." Caleb sighed shakily. "I don't understand...it's going to be days before you're here. Why would she say she would have you here today?"

Jackson's swimming brain skidded to a halt. Suddenly it all made horrible sense. "Caleb, you took my phone because of trackers, right?"

"Yeah," Caleb replied. "I thought that if they got ahold of your number, it would be better if they tracked us." He paused. "Why?"

Jackson buried his face in his free hand. "Lisa and I were attacked on the road today. They must have been tracking the signal. _Your_ signal, not mine."

Silence. "I don't understand. Are you saying..." Caleb trailed off, and Jackson could feel his distress in his own chest and gut on top of his own.

"She's not taking _me_ to him. She's taking _you. _She's switching us," Jackson spat. This realization only made him angrier. How _dare_ she try to kill his brother, especially in his own place? He pulled on his hair, feeling an overwhelming urge to strangle that..._traitor_...with his bare hands. Florida had never felt so far away. "Fuck it, I'm having one," he spat, grabbing the pack of cigarettes from his bag.

"I am already," Caleb replied, sounding more stressed than Jackson had heard in a long time, not that it was a big surprise. Jackson lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply. The smoke burned in his lungs and he coughed, but he didn't stop. It pain was giving him the same release that would come from punching a wall, so he was just fine with it. The two men were silent for a while, and Jackson became aware that his brother was crying softly. It pained him to hear, and Jackson wanted him to stop, but there were no words. He couldn't tell him things were going to be okay- it was a lie. He would never tell him to 'be a man', because that was a crock of shit.

"What do I do?" Caleb muttered, and Jackson knew that it wasn't a rhetorical question. Out of habit, Caleb was genuinely asking Jackson what to do next. Was he supposed to kill his own wife? Jackson remained silent, drumming the cigarette-holding hand on his knee while he thought about what to tell him. He spun around when he heard his name come from behind him. Lisa stood near him, looking confused.

"Caleb, Lisa's here. Is it okay if I put you on speaker? She needs to know, too." His brother grunted in response, and Jackson motioned for Lisa to sit next to him. He put the phone on speaker. "Cheryl's the one who sold us out," he explained quickly, "She's trying to trade Caleb's life for mine, and we were attacked today because Caleb took my cell phone, and I have his. The attack was meant for him."

Lisa's jaw dropped. "Oh my God," she said softly. "Why would she do that?" Jackson shook his head, taking another drag. Lisa shivered slightly in the night air, and moved closer to him. Jackson stubbed out his cigarette with his shoe and maneuvered his crushed arm to drape it across her back. She reached down and squeezed his hand in support, seeming to sense that he was struggling to keep it together.

"We have no fucking idea," he replied. "We're trying to figure out what to do now." Lisa's eyes connected with his, and he waited for the questions.

Instead, Lisa could have knocked him off the curb with what she said next. "Well, remember when we were talking about the plan?" she asked very quietly, "You said that we needed a body to trade..." Both brothers were silent. Jackson wasn't sure that Caleb had even heard what Lisa had said. Jackson was completely stunned. When did she get so pragmatic? "I mean, you're going to kill Robert for what _he's_ done..." Lisa continued carefully, obviously aware that Caleb likely didn't want to hear any of this. "So..." Jackson cut her off.

"You're right. Caleb, did you catch that?" he asked hesitantly, wondering how he was going to convince the other man of Lisa's idea. His brother remained silent for a few more seconds before responding.

"I'm in," he replied, his anguish already replaced with something more sinister. "How are we going to do it?" Jackson racked his brain, and then it hit him.

"An explosion," he said, eyeing Lisa. "If we destroy her face at least, dental records are useless, and I assume they don't have Lisa's DNA on file." Lisa nodded in confimation.

"Not that I'm aware of," she replied, "But can't they match it with my family?" Jackson scowled. Why hadn't he thought of that? The three were silent.

"They won't test all that if they think it's her anyway," Caleb offered eventually, "If they think that she's alone wherever, and they find one body, there's no reason to waste resources on detailed testing. They'll see that she's an adult female based on the remains, and that will be enough for them."

Jackson briefly wondered again if this was some kind of dream. Usually, it was him coming up with the plans. Now, Caleb and Lisa were thinking just as quickly as him, and he wasn't sure which one of them was surprising him more. There were many flaws, yes, but the roots of a decent plan were there.

"Where are we going to do it?" Lisa asked.

"We don't have to figure that out now," Jackson interjected. In his experience, it was rarely a good idea to make a complete plan in a one session brainstorm unless you absolutely had to. They still had time to think about it.

"You're right," Caleb reassured him, sighing loudly. "I'm going to get ahold of Thomas and get some anesthesia so I don't have to keep knocking her out." He scoffed. "Not that I really mind doing that. Are you guys at the ranch yet?"

"No, we got delayed. We'll head out now, though. We'll get Lisa's ID's and tell Marie what's happening. I'll get the latest news on Keefe, and then Lisa and I will be in Miami as soon as possible- tonight, I hope." Jackson hesitated. He could only imagine what was going on in his brother's head, but he could sense that the younger man was getting angry enough to impact his thinking. "Be careful, Cal. I don't know what her plans were- if she was supposed to take you to Robert today, he might get suspicious when you don't show up. You might want to get rid of her phone and switch hotels to be on the safe side." He sighed. "Just try to keep calm, and I'll call you when I know when we're coming in." Caleb agreed, and hung up quickly.

Jackson and Lisa stared straight ahead for a few moments.

"Are you okay?" she asked, poking the pavement with her toe. Jackson shrugged.

"Not really," he responded, moving away from her to light another cigarette. He needed to clear his head. "Can you get our stuff together?" he asked. Lisa nodded.

"Yeah," she said, but she didn't move. "Hey Jackson?" He looked at her. "Thanks for earlier." She nudged him. "It would have been a big mistake." Jackson nodded, distracted. He had all but forgotten that kiss, and he had more important things to worry about now. Lisa walked into the room, leaving him behind.

He ran a hand through his hair. There was a lot of negativity that he was used to, but betrayal was relatively new. Betrayal served no purpose. The idea of killing Cheryl did not upset him as much as it probably should have. To him, it wasn't revenge- it was common sense. They could no longer trust her, and the easiest way to solve that problem was by eliminating her, and Robert as well. The agency couldn't have traitors in their ranks, and they couldn't allow them to live knowing that they had the capacity to turn on them. Loyalty was a huge issue in their line of work. If you couldn't trust the others, you couldn't work with them.

He couldn't deny that Cheryl's actions hurt him, though. They had worked together for years before she switched to Robert's team. She was as good of a friend as he had. She was his sister-in-law, and had been for four years. He had danced with her at their wedding, and listened as she had gushed about how great Caleb was. He had found it both amusing and touching since it was so out of character for her to be so soft and emotional.

Jackson wouldn't have been able to understand why Cheryl was trying to kill _him_, much less why she was trying to kill _Caleb_. Was she really trying to trade them, or would they come for him next? But why Caleb? If she were really trying to trade them, did she _really_ think it would work out? Did she really expect that he was going to be fine with the fact that his brother had died in his place, much less be any degree of _happy_ about it? He couldn't make sense of it.

These were the questions that plagued Jackson, even as Lisa packed up the car and pulled out, heading for Bennington. Jackson stared out the window, saying nothing. His head was full of questions that he just could not answer, and they all boiled down to the same thing: _Why?_

"You need to stop thinking about her," Lisa said to him after an hour or so. "You're not going to figure it out."

Jackson rolled his eyes. "Forget about the fact that she's trying to kill Caleb?" he asked incredulously. "Don't be stupid."

"I am _not_ being stupid," she replied indignantly, "You're not thinking straight because you're angry at her." Jackson shook his head.

"That's not how it is," he snapped defensively. "You have no idea what's in my head right now, Leese."

She looked at him. "But-"

Jackson slammed his fist against the door. "No! Dammit, Leese. You aren't my therapist!" He turned to her. "Yes, I told you one story about my parents, but you have no idea what it's been like, and you have no idea what we have been through together. You don't know how I think, and you don't know _why_!" He was well aware that he had lost control, but he just couldn't reign it in. This served to anger him more, and he was taking it out on her.

"But I want to know those things!" Lisa yelled back, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

"But you _don't_ _know_! And you aren't going to figure me out in a few days!" He dropped back against the headrest. "Just...stop." He closed his eyes. "I've already told you so much more than I have anyone else, and it's never good enough. You just keep pushing." He lolled his head to look at her. "And if this is going to work, you need to just...back off." _This._ The word hung over them, and the two were silent for a moment, avoiding eye contact.

"What is _this_?" Lisa asked. She sounded more frustrated than angry now.

It wasn't lost on Jackson that it was the first time either of them had mentioned this mutual bond growing between them. "I don't know...it is whatever it is." He rolled down his window, letting the wind blow in his face. Between the lack of painkillers, the sleep-deprivation, and his outburst, not to mention the last two weeks in general, he was feeling incredibly burnt out. "Why does it need a label? There is no well-defined category, Leese."

She was quiet for so long that it started to unnerve Jackson. Finally, she spoke. "You're warm and then you're cold. You're open and then you just close me out again. What do you expect from me?" Jackson said nothing, because he didn't have an answer. If he had his way, she could just read his mind and know what he wanted, but that was obviously unreasonable. He just didn't know how to communicate at this level unless it was just a cover for a job. Lisa sighed heavily. "You're right. I don't know what it's like for you. I'm sorry." He shrugged.

"Don't worry about it," he replied honestly, "I haven't made it very easy for you." Jackson slipped on his sunglasses, propping his head against the door frame. What was she doing to him? A few weeks ago, he would have probably tossed her out of the car, _maybe_ after stopping first. Now he was practically apologizing for her being to pushy and pissing him off? He had gotten to where he was because he was quick on his feet and always knew what to say to manipulate a situation toward the direction that he wanted. He usually had fantastic control of his emotions, but she was quite a game changer. Now he was failing miserably.

"Jackson?" she began after a long period of silence, and he grunted in response. "Do you still think there's no chance?"

He frowned, thinking about it yet again. It was different this time, because he actually had to give her an answer. Yes, he wanted her. Yes, they had grown surprisingly closer in the last few days. On the other hand, this wasn't exactly a normal situation that would breed normal emotions. Not to mention that their definitions of normal were quite a bit different. How long would she stay with him knowing that when he left, he was killing people? Manipulating people? "Honestly, I don't know, Leese. Why don't you ask me again when this is over?" He inhaled deeply. "Right now, I don't think there is."

He continued to stare out the window, purposely avoiding Lisa's reaction. "I think there is," he heard her say softly, almost to herself. He shook his head. He wished that he could be as naïve as she was sometimes. If he had his way, things would magically sort themselves. He would get over his hang ups and they would be together, or at least have a shot at it. In reality, it was a bad idea. Their worlds were completely different. As as much as he hated to admit it, Lisa was somewhat correct when she had said the situation with Cheryl was affecting his judgment. However, it was the opposite of what she thought. Cheryl's betrayal served as a reality check, a reminder that life isn't a fairy tale, and things don't work out just because you want them to.

Some people are just meant to be alone. They are so wrapped up in their own bullshit and their flaws and issues that they forget how to let someone else in.

"Are you conveniently forgetting that I am a killer?" he asked softly. He took Lisa's silence as a 'yes' and continued. "Do you really think that you could just put it aside?"

"Why do you kill people?" she asked. Jackson ran a hand through his hair. He was used to this question, but it was usually in the form of 'why are you doing this?', and he needed a better answer than a cocky smirk this time.

"Sometimes, people need to die. If there weren't people like me, things would be much worse than they are," he responded. He didn't expect her to understand. She was brought up in a world where the government may sometimes be corrupt, but they served the greater good and people who lived on the other side of the law were bad. Sure enough, Lisa scoffed.

"So you're some kind of self-sacrificing hero?" she mocked, "You give up everything to protect our way of life?" Jackson raised an eyebrow.

"What if I said 'yes'?" he asked.

"Oh come on," she retorted. Jackson shook his head.

"So you still think I'm a monster?" he asked icily. "You think I get off on killing people, or that I'm so cold that it's all just business?" Lisa said nothing. Jackson grinned, oddly smug and at the same time shamed. "See? You can't have it both ways. If I'm a monster, why would you _want_ there to be a chance, much less actually admit it?"

"You're not a monster," Lisa conceded. "So tell me the real reason Keefe's family had to die then." Jackson sighed.

"It's a classic morality question," he responded. "If you could save a million innocent people by killing another innocent, would you? What is one life worth to you?"

"I wouldn't kill any innocent people," she replied, sounding sure of herself.

Jackson scoffed, rolling his eyes. "And that's the classic cop-out of someone with the luxury of not actually having to answer that question," he snapped. "So by being self-righteous and refusing to take that one life, you'd rather condemn the million _and_ the one. Just so you don't have to dirty your hands." He ran a hand through his hair. "And that's why you will never understand why I do what I do."

He heard Lisa's hands slam on the steering wheel. "Then help me understand since you know so much! Stop writing me off." Jackson turned to look at her. This girl was such a contradiction. She obviously had strong views about what he did, but now she was asking him to change her mind?

"I don't think you want to hear this, Leese," he said, and he meant it. People like Lisa had no idea of most of what happened in the political theater, and for mostly good reason. She didn't seem like the kind of woman who was quick to buy government conspiracies, so the truth could change her entire perspective. He gave her one more chance to back out. "This won't be easy to hear. But if you really insist I tell you, you can't interrupt me, and don't you dare call me a liar. And once I start, I'm not going to stop."

She turned to look at him, defiant. "I want to try to understand," she insisted. "And I'll try to believe you. That's the best I can do."

Jackson stroked his chin. _Good enough, I guess. _"DHS is in plans with a group of terrorists in Georgia- the country, not the state- to launch an attack on America, similar to September 11th. They're going to frame a cell in Russia for the attack. And if you recall what happened after the Twin Towers were attacked, you can imagine that this could easily escalate into a war with Russia. Keefe is a major player in this conspiracy."

Lisa looked completely stunned, but true to her word, she kept her mouth shut. He continued. "The problem is that we can't go to war with Russia in the same way that we are in the Middle East- Russia has more than guerrilla tactics, and there will be much higher casualties on both sides. On the other hand, communism is still a hot-button issue here- just look at the attacks against Obama for being a commie, socialist, whatever. It doesn't matter that Russia isn't communist- if Americans think that any Russian attacked us and killed thousands of Americans, they will be screaming for revenge just like in 2001."

Jackson sighed. "And that's exactly what Keefe wants. He wants war with Russia. It's a family thing- his dad was part of DOD back in the cold war, and let's just say Keefe has some pretty strong opinions about Russia. He's one of those who believes that things aren't going well in the Middle East for us because of Russia, who is dedicated to getting us out of there. Plus, they supply the region with weapons." He removed his sunglasses and looked at Lisa.

"Keefe is willing to sacrifice thousands of Americans in the initial attack, plus potentially millions of Americans and Russians if there is open war, all for what he considers to be the greater good. Those few in DHS think that if Russia is annihilated, we can conquer terrorism in the Middle East and practically turn them into U.S. territories. Can you imagine what will happen to oil prices in their fantasy scenario?"

Jackson shook his head. "But it won't happen. Best case scenario if Keefe and his friends get their way- thousands of Americans dead and incredibly tense relations between America and Russia. Worst case- nuclear war, millions dead, and increased terrorism." He leaned toward Lisa.

"Now you tell me," he said flatly. "If you could kill Keefe and send a message to those involved that they can't get away with what they're trying to do, but doing so means that you're also going to kill his children, wife, and some of his agents, what would you do?"

Lisa didn't reply. She looked very troubled, and Jackson was sure he had made a mistake in telling her. It was too late to take it back, though. "We have people on the inside, Leese," he continued, turning away again. "This is what I do, remember? High-profile assassinations and government overthrows?" He put his sunglasses back on. "I'm not a monster. I just know that sometimes bad things have to happen to good people for the benefit of even more good people. It doesn't make it easy, though," he admitted, gritting his teeth. "Those children's only crime is having Keefe for a father."

He glanced over and saw Lisa covering her mouth with her hand, looking like she was going to be sick. "Get off at this exit and pull over," he commanded gently, and waited while she did so. "There's something else you should know," he said. "Why do you think Keefe takes his family on business trips? Security. He's paranoid that we're after him, and he is using his wife and kids as a body shield." Lisa dropped her face in her hands, and Jackson knew that he should stop pushing, but they were beyond that now.

"Leese, look at me," he ordered. When she finally did, he continued. "There's something else, something that's been bothering me about this whole thing, and I keep coming back to the same idea. I think DHS is using you to keep us quiet." Lisa's eyes went wide and then back into a frown.

"I don't...why?" Jackson could tell she was trying hard to take in everything that he was saying. If he had to guess, he would say that her head was too full of questions for her to make any kind of coherent response.

He sighed. "There's nothing concrete to prove that you were actually in on the attempt, and as far as your record looks, you couldn't assassinate a squirrel, but it seems like they pinned it on you without much of an investigation. Makes me wonder why. Then I thought, you look like an easy target. I thought you were, and maybe they're thinking the same thing. If Keefe comes after us, he thinks he runs the risk of being exposed. By making you the scapegoat, he probably thinks that we'll be thankful and lie low for a while. He probably thought they could just...kill you and it would send us the message that he will stop at nothing."

Lisa bolted from the car and ran into the ditch, vomiting into the grass. Jackson was by her side instantly, one hand on her back in support. When she finished, he grabbed a bottle of water from the car and handed it to her. "My dad..." she said shakily, tears in her eyes, "...a _message_? I told them..." The tears streamed down her cheeks, and she was starting to breathe heavily. She rinsed her mouth and spat the water into the grass. "I asked _why_ I would stop it if I...they said I was trying to gain trust so I could do it later...without suspicion." Jackson sighed heavily. The stupidity of that idea was astounding.

"Leese, that's the biggest crock of shit. There's no way they really think that." Lisa shook her head, eventually crying herself into submission. "If you want to see a silver lining," Jackson offered, "If I am right, which I likely am, it will make helping you disappear easy. If we make it look like a suicide, they'll believe it. He will probably never even imagine that you got my help, and as far as he's concerned, you're just a stupid girl who wouldn't even know where to start in staging your own death. Like Caleb said- they won't waste time with testing. We'll leave something to indicate that the pressure got to you, and they will buy it."

Almost like a switch had been flipped, Lisa looked at him with concern. "What about you?" she asked. "Do you think they really think you're dead? Is that doctor in danger?" Jackson shook his head.

"Even _if _they think I'm alive, what are they going to do? Keep in mind that when I say Keefe knows we're after him, I mean that he knows there is _someone_ after him. He has no idea who we specifically are. But if they think I'm alive and even if they think Thomas has something to do with it, they can't really do anything about it. If they want to go after Thomas, they would have to admit that you are innocent and there is more to the situation. Thomas is established- there would have to be some explanation as to why he was being investigated." Lisa nodded.

"I'm a body shield for both sides," she said bitterly. Jackson sighed, his head dropping. He wanted to refute it, but knew she was right. She was the reason that there wasn't a bigger government backlash in response to his failure. He was pulled from his thoughts when Lisa took his hand, staring into his eyes. "If what you say is true, it actually makes me feel a little better," she admitted. It was Jackson's turn to be dumbfounded. "It gives what happened a reason. It justifies me being here, getting your help."

Lisa stared at the ground. "I know my dad died for me. And I've been asking myself over and over what he would think if he knew I was with you. I mean, as far as he knew, and as far as I knew, this was all your fault. But it's not. I know why I did what I did. I couldn't justify killing Keefe and his family just to keep me and my dad alive. Now I know why you did what you did. You couldn't tell me your reasons flat-out, and I wouldn't have believed you anyway. You just did what you had to do." She looked up at Jackson again, her eyes flaring in defiance.

"I know that it's Keefe's fault- all of it. He needs to die for everything that he's done, and for everything he is going to do."

**Sorry the chapter got so long and that I just gave you guys a LOT of plot to process, but there wasn't really a good cut-off point.**

**It was implied in chapter 1 that this story takes place in 2010 even though the movie itself was released in 2005. I couldn't find anything in the movie that implicitly stated that the events took place in 2005, so I decided to take some liberties with the year so Obama could be president. This was done because when Bush was president, there wasn't nearly as much anti-communist/socialist vitrol as we have now. Also, Russia's anti-American policy in the Middle East has been much more relevant to the Obama administration than to the Bush administration.**

**Also, I feel the need to make this disclaimer- I am not suggesting in any way that the Dept. of Homeland Security would ever be involved, either as a whole or in part, in the kind of conspiracy talked about in this chapter.**

**I also want to apologize if Jackson's feelings for Lisa seem a little bipolar. Jackson's point of view is based on a guy that I used to be in an "are we or aren't we?" long-distance relationship with (I like you but it's too hard, blah blah blah). I thought it was fitting based on Jackson's behavior in the film- struggling for calculated control of what I thought was an obvious attraction to Lisa. Don't worry, though- his doubts are sounding their little death rattles. He might act like the cold manager, but the human in him hadn't reconciled with what he did to Lisa. Her little speech at the end will have an impact on him. :)**

**Review if you think it's about damn time they got to the ranch and got this business with Keefe finished! Or if you don't, I guess...**

**One more thing- school is getting pretty hectic right now (I'm taking 22 credits when 20 is the max and running myself into the ground so I can graduate this spring), so I have no idea when I'll be able to update again.**


	14. Business

**So I finally updated! A few of you made similar comments, so I'll quickly address the common responses. I was pleasantly surprised to see that a few people didn't see Cheryl's twist coming. I was worried that I gave it away when Jackson realized that she was working for Robert.**

**As for the government conspiracy, I am so happy with the positive responses. I was so worried that people were going to find it contrived and annoyed that I took a little more "psycho" out of Jackson's character.**

**As a side note: I had a lot of people telling me that my writing is improving with each chapter. It makes me proud, but way to add the pressure, guys! :D**

**SparklesFranqula: **You're blood-thirsty. I like you. :)

**trudes193: **Anyone who crosses Lisa and Jackson had better watch their backs. There will be a lot of death before this story is over.

**Medisha: **I'm glad I made your Monday. And don't worry- I have quite a plan in store for our dear Cheryl.

**empirex: **I agree with you. I already knew a lot of what I wrote since I was a political science major before I switched to art. But yes, I try to research everything I write about in just in case. I'm sure if the government is somehow running a scan on my internet usage, my searches for how to treat bullet wounds to various areas, different types of guns and knives, and double-checking the middle east/Russia situation will catch their eye. :)

**Brunette bulma: **No worries. We'll find out what Cheryl is up to.

**Pirate Gyrl: **Thanks for your review! I love to hear from new people, and I'm glad you like the direction in which I'm taking Jackson's character. I've read quite a few fanfics here, and I do try to make my situations a little unique, mostly because if I use the same scenarios as other writers, I tend to mimic their style, too. Poor Caleb- he's in for some massive character change because of this.

**She Who Shines: **Your review made me smile like you can't believe. I made Caleb and Jackson smoke because I figured that people in their line of work couldn't care less about getting lung cancer/heart disease/etc, it's a great way to kill time when you're waiting, and if your mark smokes, it's a quick way to get closer to them- smokers have a community bond. I like that you noticed it- I figured most people would think I just threw it in there for fun or because I think smoking is sexy, or whatever.

I haven't technically taken any psychology courses, but I've taken a few on culture and sexuality. The big thing this semester is the behavior of the dominant/dominated and the quest of the dominated to find his/her true self through being "known" by the dominant. It's a underlying theme in this story, so thank you so much for noticing!

Glad you liked the car chase!

**son-of-puji: **I missed you! You made me feel all chuffed with your kind words. I hope you liked chapter 13.

**pinky's creature feature: **Let me know when you write it- I'll be sure to check it out. I recommend reading a bunch of fics to see what you like and don't like if you get stuck. Make it your own, obviously, but it makes for nice inspiration.

**Inday: **Wow, you practically doubled my review count! I'll send you a PM with a complete response to your review, because I think it would add another page to my chapter if I posted it here.

**JK: **It's rated M for _language_, violence, and (later) adult situations. People tend to swear in high-stress situations.

**WARNING: This chapter is a long piece of boring filler. Don't say I didn't warn you.**

**Side note: When Marie and Jackson speak to each other, it's in French. I was going to write out their conversation, but figured it would be more annoying than atmospherically helpful.**

* * *

**Chapter 14: Business**

"Shouldn't you knock?" Lisa asked as Jackson walked through the front door of the ranch house. He rolled his eyes.

"Shouldn't you be in the car?" he snapped back. He had told Lisa to wait until he came to get her, but of course she didn't listen. He wasn't in the mood to tie her up, and so she followed.

Jackson walked down the hallway and into the sitting room. He made his way to a wall that was empty except for a large painting, and shifted the painting, revealing a keypad. After he punched in a code, the wall slid, revealing a passageway.

"It's like a movie," he heard Lisa marvel, and he could hear sarcasm in her voice, but he continued walking.

"Get your shit together," he muttered. Marie would have little patience for this tourist, but maybe it would help Lisa finally realize that he _did _know what he was talking about and that sometimes she should just listen to him. He led Lisa into an office where a slender brunette in her early 40s sat behind a desk, typing away at her computer.

Marie sprang to her feet. "Jackson!" she exclaimed, sauntering over and greeting him with her usual _faire la bise_. "I heard from Caleb about Cheryl and Robert. I had Matthieu book you two seats to Miami tonight and arranged for Jeff to pick you up. Caleb is staying at Palm Suns. I see he has not lost his intelligence in those years he spent away." She eyed Lisa briefly and turned back to Jackson, who nodded. Palm Suns was a hotel they used often. It was one of the only hotels in Miami that allowed guests to pay in cash to avoid any record of their stay. Hot spot for adulterers and for people in their line of work.

"Why is she in here, Jackson?" Marie asked, looking annoyed, "We need to discuss business." Jackson sighed and turned to Lisa.

"Go back to the car," he instructed, giving her a look that just dared her to argue. Lisa glared at him, but turned and briskly left, irritation in every step. Marie dropped into a chair and lit a cigarette.

"I don't understand why you brought her," she stated, offering the pack to Jackson. He took one and sat across from her. "She will hurt you more than help."

Jackson took a drag. "She needs to get her ID's before she can go," he replied simply. He hoped that would be the end of the subject, but of course it wasn't.

"Then why does she need to go to Miami with you? Why not send her away?" Jackson shrugged.

"The feds are bothering her family to find her," he explained, "I'm going to help her make them think she's dead. We figured it would be easier in Miami- the funeral is the day after tomorrow." Marie shook her head.

"Why is that your concern?" she demanded, sighing. "I don't understand. You have never had this much trouble with a job. Are you going soft?"

Jackson ashed his cigarette. "No," was all he said. She scoffed.

"That is a lie," she replied hotly. "You are in this position because you are soft. You should have let Robert handle the job, since it was apparently beyond your capability." Jackson said nothing, knowing that she didn't want any response. "You told me you could handle it, that you could get that woman to do what you wanted, but you were wrong, no?" She ashed. "And now you bring her- a _civilian_ who tried to kill you- into my house. I think you have lost your judgment."

Jackson remained silent. He knew that she was right. A part of him had known it after the first month of watching Lisa, when he had begun to realize that he was attracted to her. He should have walked away then, but couldn't bring himself to do it. Even though he knew that she had a point, it wasn't something he cared to hear. He clenched his jaw. "You should have more confidence in me," he said, taking a drag. "Things didn't go to plan because the plan itself was flawed. You can say that I am making a mistake by helping her out, but the original job failed because we chose the wrong woman." He scoffed. "Marie, do you really think that if I couldn't get Lisa to make the call and stick to it, that Robert could?" He eyed his director. "The man never should have been a manager. He can't plan worth shit, and he can't read people."

Marie said nothing, and Jackson held his breath. They had a close relationship, but it was professional at the end of the day- officially, he received no special treatment. He knew that he was stepping out of line, but he wasn't going to take all of the blame for the failed Keefe job. "I just want to get to Caleb. He's the most important thing to me right now." he added softly. "And this thing with Lisa? I have to do it. I don't expect you to understand, but it's my way of atoning...for what happened with my parents. I can't let another innocent person suffer because of my actions...not when it's not necessary."

The brunette instantly softened. "You have changed very much, Jackson," she observed, ashing her cigarette. "Whether for better or worse, I can't say. Maybe both. You are becoming a better person, but lousy for me." The two assassins had been through a lot together- Marie had recruited him, been his manager, mentored the twins in her own way after their uncle had been killed, and when she was moved up to director, he had taken her place. In many ways, she was a second mother to him- maybe 'aunt' was a more appropriate word- even if they often overlooked their ties for the sake of the job. It had been a long time since they spoke to each other like this- Jackson would never try to get out of a tough spot by appealing to her sympathy. "Is this because of her?" she asked, and Jackson nodded. "You love her?"

Jackson choked on his smoke. "Marie," he groaned in disbelief, "Love?" He shook his head. "I have feelings for her," he admitted when he saw the skeptical look on the other woman's face. "I think...I _could_ love her someday." His last words surprised even himself. Love was not a feeling Jackson thought much of. To him, it meant weakness and vulnerability, and was dangerous in their job. "Maybe. I don't know."

He had never been jealous of Caleb and Cheryl, or anyone else that he saw happy together. He scorned the idea of putting yourself on the line for another, except when it came to Caleb. His brother was the only person that Jackson was willing to die for, and he had always assumed it would stay that way. Now that he thought more about it, though, he was putting himself on the line to help Lisa. Things could go well, but they could also go badly, and Jackson could easily wind up dead or uncovered. Was that for her, though, or for himself, for his atonement? He wasn't sure how to answer that question yet.

"Answer me this, Jackson- are you still able to do the job?" Marie asked seriously, studying him.

Jackson nodded. "Absolutely," he responded, and he meant it. Harsh as it may seem to some, if it came down to Lisa or his job, he would choose the job. "Call Jonathan. He has been trying to get in touch with you- he has some information that you will find interesting." Marie stubbed out her cigarette and walked to her desk. She pulled a fat envelope from a drawer and tossed it to Jackson.

"Those are the girl's papers. Everything is in order. Your flight leaves at 3:30 out of Dallas, and you'll be in Miami a little after 7 tonight." She walked back over to Jackson and handed him a package, hugging him tightly. "Call Jonathan," she repeated. "Your new fakes are in that envelope, and I got you a new phone, too. Tell Caleb I send my love." She released him. "Leave your car here and take one of mine. I will send someone to pick it up later. Just lock in the keys and let me know where it's parked." The two traded keys. "Caleb asked me to destroy his, so I'll take care of it." She eyed him. "Are those Caleb's clothes? Get new ones- they don't suit you. Get everything sorted, and I'll call you soon. Good luck, love." They _faire la bise_ again and Jackson was in the doorway when Marie spoke again.

"But if you blow this, you're on your own."

Jackson shook his head as he made his way out of the ranch house. Marie was something else entirely. He called her_ le diamant_, because she was beautiful, brilliant, and rare, but also because she had so many facets to her personality- she could be warm and then cold as hell, in either order. He had seen her calm and bouncing off the walls like she had been before he left the office. She also earned her nickname by being incredibly hard. Mattieu, her brother, liked to say that the saying "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned" didn't even scratch Marie's surface. Simply put- cross her, and you were dead.

This was what made it so difficult for Jackson to wrap his head around Robert and Cheryl's betrayal. They had to know the consequences, that Marie would never allow them to live for what they had done. He couldn't help but wonder if there was more to it. Either Robert thought no one would find out what they were planning on doing to Jackson (Caleb), or they had bigger plans to usurp Marie. If that were the case, they had better be setting their sights even higher, because the agency wasn't some cartel out of Scarface- you couldn't just kill your way to the top. Basically, they were either morons, or bigger morons. Or there was some grand scheme that Jackson just couldn't see yet.

Jackson approached the car and saw Lisa slumped in the passenger rolled his eyes and threw open the driver-side door. "Get your stuff. We're changing cars," he instructed, pulling the two bags from the backseat. "Grab the guns." Lisa did what she was told and followed Jackson behind the house.

"So that was Marie?" she asked, "Very friendly." Jackson ignored her, typing in the access code to get into the garage. When the sliding door lifted to reveal and empty room, he entered the second code, causing the floor to slide apart and reveal an underground area. "I should have just stayed in the car, right?" Lisa asked, sounding sheepish, as she followed Jackson down the sloped concrete.

He nodded, and Lisa sighed. "I'm sorry. I should have just listened to you. I guess I'm still a little opposed to just taking orders from you all the time."

Jackson clenched his jaw. "Why is it so hard for you to trust that I know what I'm talking about? Did you question your bosses?"

"You're not my boss," Lisa replied, sounding irritated again. Jackson reached an inconspicuous car, a green Taurus, and tossed his bags in the backseat. He got into the driver's seat and waited for Lisa to get in.

When she did, he looked at her. "I'm only going to say this once more, so listen this time. I am not your boss, but I know a hell of a lot more about what's going on than you do. When we're at my director's base and I tell you to wait in the car, you fucking wait. You shouldn't need me to tell you that she wouldn't want to see you, that it's a security breach, and that you frankly have absolutely nothing to do with my agency and the work that goes on. You need to stop wasting time. You want to ask questions, do it after."

He turned over the engine and drove up the ramp. "It's petty now, yes. But in situations like yesterday's chase and potentially in what we're about to do in Miami, questioning me instead of doing what I say will probably get one or both of us killed."

He eyed Lisa, who was staring at her feet. "You could have explained all of this before...but I'm supposed to trust that you have good reasons. Is that what you're trying to say?"

Jackson nodded. "That is exactly what I'm saying. Unless you still think of me as the man on the plane and you're suspicious of my motives, you need to trust what I'm telling you without me having to explain every detail first. Is that something you can do, or should I put you on a plane to New York and go to Miami to take care of Robert and Cheryl on my own? I don't _have_ to help you with DHS, you know."

Lisa nodded. "I know. I'm sorry. I can try my best to listen to you better. It's just hard, because the stakes are so high, and I'm really tired of feeling like your puppet." She bit her lip. "Not saying you're manipulating me, I'm just saying-"

"I get it," Jackson said with a wave of his hand. "That's why I said ask me later. I usually don't even do that. I'm used to telling people what to do, and they just do it. I know I can't expect that from you, so I'm offering what little compromise I can." He grinned. "Just so you know, I really want a Lisa finger puppet now." Lisa giggled.

"Maybe I'll make you one when this is over. She'll have frizzy red yarn hair. Just make sure that you wave her around going 'why?' all the time."

Jackson snorted. "Oh, I will. Trust me." He glanced over at her, serious again. "Do we have an agreement, though?"

Lisa nodded. "For now. Don't think I'll be your little 'yes' girl when this is over, though."

"If you were a 'yes' woman, Leese, I would assume you either also had a twin and I was stuck with her, or you had a lobotomy." Lisa laughed again.

"Can I ask a personal question?" she asked after they had been silent for a while. Jackson nodded, curious. "Why don't you talk to Caleb much anymore?" His eyes widened in surprise and he ran a hand through his hair. He hadn't been expecting that.

"I don't know...I just don't. I don't really think about it," he stumbled, still gripping his hair. He didn't have a particular reason. He just usually didn't have much to say. It wasn't a conscious decision.

"He thinks you think he abandoned you by quitting," Lisa told him. This was news to Jackson. He had told his brother many times that he didn't resent the latter for choosing to lead a straight life.

"Maybe I did at first," he admitted, "But it was because we worked well together. It was easy, because we knew each other and didn't have to think about it." Jackson smiled crookedly, remembering the hits the two pulled off together, and the rush it gave him. It hadn't really been the same without Caleb, but he had gotten over it...mostly. "I've told him this before."

Technically, Caleb was still in the agency as a surgeon, but since there were absolutely no hits in Minnesota, and there were others like him in major cities, he wasn't used often. Jackson shrugged. "I guess I don't like how he lives. He doesn't really work for the agency, but he works for one of those basic clinics for uninsured people. It's a waste of his talent, really."

Lisa frowned. "Why isn't he at a hospital?"

"He can't take vacation time as easily in case something happens, like after Miami," Jackson replied. "I wish he would do one or the other. If he's going to quit, then quit and have a real life. If not, move somewhere would he be useful to us."

"Have you told him this?" Lisa asked. Jackson nodded.

"Yeah. He said he still wants to help, but he likes Minnesota...for whatever reason." Jackson shrugged sadly. "I just don't really know him anymore. I know he's safe where he is, and other than that, he's just not part of my life." They were silent again.

"How are you taking everything?" She asked. "With Caleb. You seem pretty protective of him." Jackson nodded, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Yeah, I am," he responded. "We've had a pretty...interesting ten years, and it's just reflex." He sighed. "I don't really know how I'm taking it right now. I guess we'll find out when I see Cheryl." Jackson gripped the steering wheel tighter, gritting his teeth. He was pretty sure someone was going to have to keep him from smashing in her face when he finally got there.

Remembering what Marie had said, Jackson pulled Caleb's phone from his pocket and dialed his own number. "I have to make some calls now," he told Lisa, listening to the phone ring. When Caleb answered, Jackson turned back to the road.

"How's it going?" he asked his brother.

"It's fine, I guess," Caleb replied. "Just sitting in the room. I've been working on our plan for Lisa."

Jackson nodded. "Great. We'll be there in Miami at 7, and Jeff's going to bring us to the hotel. We can talk about it then. I'll figure out what we're going to do about Robert. We should probably take care of him tonight." Caleb gave an 'mhm' in response, and the two were silent for a few seconds. Jackson cleared his throat, suddenly uncomfortable. "See you then, yeah?" Another 'mhm', and Jackson hung up.

Lisa raised an eyebrow. "That was all business," she observed. Jackson shot her a dirty look. She was the one who got him nervous about his relationship with Caleb. He refocused and scanned through the contacts that Marie had transferred to his new phone, dialing Jonathan's number.

"Don't," he warned. "It's William," he said when he reached voicemail. "Call me back." He hung up again and glanced at Lisa. "My guy in Keefe's office. He'll call me when he's home...probably won't get it until we land." Jackson grinned. "You realize we're going to Dallas, right?" he taunted playfully.

"Are you kidding?" Lisa asked, surprised and seemingly amused.

Jackson laughed. "Maybe we'll finally get those nachos."

"Yeah..." Lisa replied, giggling. "Why Dallas? Isn't there an airport in Oklahoma?"

He nodded. "Yeah, but Dallas is closer. Or Marie is a bitch." He grinned. "Or both." The two laughed for a few seconds, and then fell silent again. Jackson flipped the cell phone in his hand repeatedly. He was trying to lighten the mood before she had to listen to his next call.

"Um..." he began, but trailed off. There was no putting this off. "I have to make a call."

Lisa looked at him quizzically. "You have my permission...?" she replied, unsure of what he was getting at.

Jackson frowned and dialed the number. He heard a man on the other line give him a halting greeting, obviously not recognizing the number.

"Hello, Ben," Jackson responded, his voice suddenly sinister. He couldn't help but smirk when he heard the surprised gasp.

"Jackson?" Benjamin confirmed, the unease in his voice obvious. Jackson scowled- how many times had he told him not to use his real name? "I thought you were dead."

"I'm not," Jackson responded coldly. Robert must have told them already. "Surprised?" He stared straight ahead, refusing to look at Lisa.

"No...not really," the other man responded, but it sounded more like a question, like he was looking for the "appropriate" response. Jackson narrowed his eyes.

"And you know what this means, Ben," he said, referring to his intentions of killing the other manager, "We're not going to have any trouble, are we?"

"Of course not!" Ben replied, his voice still shaking. Jackson wasn't surprised. He was assuming that Ben knew what his boss was up to, and possibly thought this was some kind of test of his loyalty. "We're with you- what Robert's doing isn't right."

Jackson rolled his eyes. _Yes, he's so opposed that he's done absolutely nothing about it._ "Good. Tell me what I want to know." Ben was one of Robert's dogs, but he was no ordinary dog. He was one of Robert's personal subordinates, and was almost always at his side. Conveniently for Jackson, he was honest. And an old friend of Caleb's. There was no chance that he was in on whatever scheme was in place. "We're coming tonight."

"Oh, well, he's going to be at home all night, as far as I know. When are you coming?"

"Tonight," Jackson repeated smoothly. He didn't know what time yet. "And Ben? I have Marie's full backing for this. If you or any of your buddies even _think_ about pulling anything, every single one of you will be finished. And trust me, I'll make sure to take my Benchmade and personally slit your throat." He lowered his voice. "Do we have an understanding?"

"Yes Sir," the lower man replied, his voice grave. Jackson hung up, slipping the phone into his pocket.

"A Benchmade is another knife," he told Lisa, still not meeting her eyes. He knew that he was being ridiculous, but there was a big part of him that was ashamed that she had heard _that_ voice, the manager voice, come from him again.

"I figured," she replied quietly, obviously unnerved.

"Ben works closely with Robert," he explained, trying to make himself sound blasé. "Caleb and I will go for Robert tonight, but I needed some information first."

"You trust him?" Lisa asked, sounding worried. Jackson glanced at her.

"Yes," he replied. "He's stupid, but he's not an idiot. And I've worked with him before, so he's rather loyal to me. I told you, Leese- the kind of thing that Robert is doing isn't accepted in our work. I wouldn't be shocked if Ben and his boys have already been planning something."

Lisa frowned. "Just...be careful, alright?"

Jackson smiled in spite of himself. He had misread her again. She wasn't afraid of him, even though she had seen his darker side yet again. She was genuinely worried about him. Other than Caleb, it had been a long time since he had experienced that, and he was remembering how oddly good it felt to know that someone was concerned with his safety. How good it felt to be cared about.

So why was he still uncomfortable? Jackson glanced down at the phone in his hand. For the first time in years, he thought about the person on the other end of the phone. What was Benjamin doing? Was he afraid? Jackson had no doubts that he would help get Robert...was he unnecessarily intimidating toward him?

Jackson frowned. Since when did he care? He sighed in frustration.

"What's wrong?" he heard Lisa ask, and his cheeks flushed lightly.

"I'm...confused," he blurted. Talking about his feelings didn't come naturally to Jackson, but he felt a strange urge to share himself with her. "I just wonder if I should have talked to him like that. And I wondering why I care." He handed the phone to Lisa to place in his bag. "I don't usually think about things like that."

Lisa frowned. "Do you think you made a mistake?" Jackson frowned, fingering a tear in the steering wheel cover. He noticed that this was becoming a routine for them- she would try to get him to open up and then shut up, letting him work out the answer. It annoyed him at first, but he was finding that he was grateful that she knew how to handle him.

He ran a hand through his hair and frowned. "Maybe." He was silent again. He had no idea how to put his thoughts into words. For her part, Lisa continued to wait patiently. "I don't really know what Robert is up to. Is he just out to get me or is this something bigger? I don't know if Ben knows anything about it. Maybe..." he paused and sighed in frustration yet again. "Leese, I don't know how to say it." He was full-on flushed in embarrassment.

Lisa gave him a break. "Do you think if you were nicer to him, he would tell you what was happening?" Jackson shook his head.

"No, that's not it. He's on our side." He gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. "He'd tell me if he knew anything." He paused. "It sounds stupid, but some people aren't good at rebelling. They do what they're told, and they wouldn't know how to overthrow or prevent something on their own." He shrugged. "I think Benjamin is like that."

Lisa suddenly burst out laughing. Jackson glanced at her in confusion. "Jackson!" she threw her head back in amusement. "You're feeling guilty!" He raised an eyebrow, failing to see what was so funny. Of course he was feeling guilty. He just didn't know why. "Well, Jackson whatever-your-middle-name-is-"

"Anthony," he interjected with slight amusement.

"Jackson Anthony Ripper," Lisa continued, "I believe that you just discovered that you do in fact have a conscience."

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**I should have the next chapter up sometime this week, but no promises.**

**I have the scenes for Robert, Cheryl, and Lisa's staged death, but I'm struggling with Keefe. If anyone is interested, I would love to have one or two betas of sorts- not to get the chapters in advance/do any proofreading, but someone who is willing to listen to ideas. Let me know if you're interested or if you have any ideas in the reviews.**

**Even if you're not interested, review anyway if you've made it all the way through this chapter.**


	15. Black Waltz

**Looks like my filler isn't being well-received (the traffic is the same as usual, but hardly any reviews), so I hauled ass to get the next chapter out for you guys to make up for it. It's full of fluff, angst, and lots of blood.**

**trudes193:** Glad you liked Jackson's little conscience creeping in. Our Lisa is definitely shaking his brain around, isn't she? Lol Marie probably wouldn't even need a finger to finish the job.

**Shiney:** There will always be a shout-out for you so long as you stick with me! :) I enjoyed writing the Benjamin scene- I thought it would be funny if even after the hours spent with Jackson threatening her dad, he still was nervous to make the call- yeah, like she doesn't know that he can get mean. He's going to have to do some serious soul searching soon (alliteration!) regarding Lisa. He can't very well shelter her from much of anything at this point.

I was going to work your questions about Marie into this chapter, but it never seemed to fit anywhere. For now, I'll tell you that Jackson learned French in school, and it improved through the years he spent working with her. We'll find out a little more about her later, though. Yes, he is a different person around her. It wasn't my intention to put it in writing, but in my mind, Jackson is actually_le diamant- _multi-faceted, beautiful, and deathly strong. I agree with what you said about her line, and made the change immediately. Maybe I do need a real beta for the tiny details that slip by.

I've worked out more details regarding the Cheryl-Robert-OMG situation, and I'll bounce them off you next time we get a chance to chat.

**Jesscah: **Thanks for saying so! I do try to improve- it's better to go up than down, right? Honestly, Jackson's whole attack of conscience was one my favorite scenes. I tried to write him somewhat like a little kid who thinks that they're dying when they have a simple cold. He was overthinking the problem, trying to figure it out, and Lisa was just like "you have a conscience, idiot."

**KnoKnayme: **LOVE your name. I sent you a pm.

Note to **Inday: **I realized that your name isn't registered. Is there a certain way that you would like me to respond to everything you wrote, or do you not need a response?

**FLUFFYANGST:**

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Jackson shift his weight, glancing around the store. He yawned and rolled his head from side to side, letting the bones in his neck give a satisfying pop. He was miserable and wanted nothing more than to just get to Miami, but they were on a pit stop in a department store. Lisa had insisted that she had gone as far as she could in the clothes she had brought. It brought a smile to his face when he remembered her realization.

_Jackson glanced over, hearing Lisa groaning in distaste. "What's up?" he asked. She sniffed at the air, wrinkling her nose. He had never noticed before how adorable that action could be. _

"_Something smells weird," she complained. Her eyes widened in realization. "It's me," she whined, dropping her head back against the seat. Jackson shrugged. He hadn't noticed anything, but there was no use explaining that to her. It was like telling a woman that she didn't look fat. She never believes it._

_Lisa scowled. "My clothes reek and I haven't showered. I'm disgusting!" Jackson rolled his eyes._

"_Yeah, you haven't showered for a whole day. You're fine," he said, looking at the road. He tried to sound exasperated, but he couldn't deny that he was amused. _

"_Jackson," Lisa said sweetly, and he noticed that she was giving him doe eyes. "Can we pretty please stop and get new clothes?" Jackson raised an eyebrow and eyed her. _

"_With cherries on the top?" he mocked playfully. She stuck out her lower lip, giving him her best pout. He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, we'll go get you some pretty new things."_

He had agreed to give her twenty minutes to look for clothes, and she agreed to not drag him around and make him give opinions on everything. He checked his watch. It had been over half an hour, and he still didn't see Lisa.

Jackson sighed and headed for the women's department. He searched the racks and clothing stands, but saw no Lisa. Worry nagged at him, but he quickly tried to dismiss it. What was he worried about? Lisa taking off with a small amount of cash, no ID, credit cards, or phone? The random chance that someone just happened to recognize her and was subduing her while they called the cops? No, he knew that nothing had happened to her, but there was still that annoying little buzz in his brain.

He made his way to the entrance of the changing room. "Leese?" he called softly. He heard her respond, but it sounded very weak to him. She was upset. Jackson shifted from one foot to another. Was he supposed to wait? Demand that she let him in? He tried as discretely as possible to glance under the stall doors. He saw one pair of feet- presumably hers. The rest of the stalls appeared to be empty.

Jackson walked over and leaned against the frame of the stall. "Are you alright?" he asked, and was surprised to her hear start to cry freely.

"I'm...not fine," he heard her muffled response, and realized her face must be covered. Jackson caught the meaning behind her words and contemplated kicking himself in the shin. _'Are you alright?' 'I'm fine.' 'Are you sure?' _That was the typical back and forth between Lisa and her dad.

"Is it your dad?" he asked hesitantly. He didn't know how to be delicate. He shifted slightly when he heard the door unlatch and turned to see Lisa pull the door open slightly, motioning for him to come in. He glanced around quickly to make sure that there were no employees waiting to get on their case, and slid in, locking the door again as Lisa leaned against the wall. Her eyes were red and her face was streaked with tears.

Jackson took in her outfit. She had on a long-sleeved black top and a knee-length black skirt. Funeral clothes. He frowned, but said nothing. "I thought I should wear black, even if I can't go to the funeral," she murmured, staring at her feet. "I miss him." She raised her eyes to look at him. "I want to go to it."

Jackson sighed. He knew that she wasn't asking permission, but expressing frustration. He ran a hand through his hair, debating how to respond. "I know," he replied. _Tough love or sympathy? _Sympathy won. "Leese...do you believe in heaven?" She nodded.

Jackson sucked his bottom lip. He wasn't religious. He believed in right and wrong, but that they were subjective to situations. He had seen too much to believe in a loving God. But the fact that she did made this easier. "So, your dad is up in heaven now, watching you, right?" She nodded again, sniffling. Jackson placed his hands on her shoulders. "Then he understands. He knows you love him and he doesn't want you to put your life in danger."

"I know," Lisa replied as she wiped her cheeks with the heels of her palms. She rested her hands on her jaw, cupping her own face. "I just can't believe that I'll never see him again. He won't walk me down the aisle." Her voice cracked and fresh tears fell again. "None of my family...they're not part of my life anymore. I might as well be dead to them."

_Tough love. _"After tomorrow, you will be," he reminded her. He wasn't good at sympathy. He was good at reality. "You don't have a choice anymore. If you don't follow through with the plan-"

"We don't have a plan," Lisa interrupted him miserably. Jackson clenched his jaw in irritation, but knew that he should let her vent.

"If you don't follow through with the plan that we will have," he continued, "your family will still not be a part of your life. You will rot in prison or be killed." He placed his hands over hers. "All you can do is hope that your family understands. That is your only option." His voice softened and he dug into the carpeted floor with his shoe. "As for your future wedding, he'll be there, won't he?"

He removed his hands from hers, cursing himself for not being able to be more reassuring. The ironic part was that if she were a job, he would probably be able to say exactly what she wanted to hear, even if he didn't mean a word of it. But he cared about her, and it was crippling his brain. He wanted to be genuine, but it seemed that his true self was a complicated mess of emotions and subpar compared to the persona he had worked for years to perfect. He had been able to say what he had to to make people love him, hate him, respect him, fear him- anything he wanted. He couldn't do this with her.

Lisa took his hands. "Did you go to your dad's funeral?" she asked quietly. Jackson nodded.

"We had to. It would have looked wrong if we hadn't," he replied distantly. He didn't have to tell her that it wasn't the same, though. "Consider yourself lucky," he said, staring at their connected hands. "You had twenty-some years with him, and all of it was loving. I haven't had a dad- any parents, really- for almost half my life." He frowned as the words came out. He sounded so self-pitying and over-dramatic, and it was disgusting.

"Twenty-six," she murmured. "I'm surprised you didn't know that."

Jackson smiled weakly. "Wasn't important to me," he responded. "Do you feel better?"

Lisa nodded. "A lot, actually. Thank you." Jackson smiled and instinctively brought her hands to his face, placing a soft kiss to her knuckles.

"Good. Come out when you're ready." He quickly walked out and leaned against the wall outside the changing rooms. He didn't know how much longer either of them could keep up this game of avoiding these obviously mutual feelings.

_I take 2 steps forward/I take 2 steps back._

Jackson smiled. The song wasn't quite right. It was more like 'two steps forward, one step back'. He couldn't wipe the grin off of his face. For the entirety of their road trip, he had sought out the 80's stations on the pretense that neither of them could win the radio battle. The truth was that 80's music was a guilty pleasure of his, and he got the impression that Lisa didn't dislike it as much as she pretended. It was turning into a in-joke between them.

All that was left now was for him to give her a falsetto rendition of "Like a Prayer", something he reserved only for himself. The only other person who had heard anything like that was his mother. She loved that kind of music, and always used to play it for him and Caleb, at least when their dad wasn't around- he had despised it. He knew it was sentimental, but 80's music reminded him of a time when things were okay. He didn't really think about better times when he listened to it, though- it was more of a soul cleanser for him.

Lisa came out of the dressing room just as Jackson let out a small chuckle. "What's so funny?" she asked, handing him her small pile of clothes.

"I was just remembering things," he replied, walking alongside her toward the register. "It's really stupid."

Lisa shook her head. "I want to hear," she replied. "Please?"

Jackson blushed lightly. "Alright. When we were six, Caleb and I drove our mom nuts singing 'Rock Me Amadeus' over and over- in gibberish since we didn't know German." He shrugged, trying to play it off, but he saw Lisa giggling.

"I'm having a hard time picturing you as a cute little boy," she replied, obviously enjoying herself. Jackson smirked.

"Caleb was the cute one. I was the weird kid," he replied.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

Their conversation was put on hold when they reached the register and Jackson paid for her new clothes. He yawned again. It was probably a good idea to let Lisa finish the trip to the airport. He really needed some sleep. "Just what I said. I was the weird kid. I had more than one teacher tell my parents that I had creepy eyes, stuff like that. My dad was a big hunter. He would bring home bucks, and Caleb would run into the house crying. I would watch him gut and clean them. I thought it was fascinating."

He tossed her the keys and they both got in the car. "When I was a little older, I was obsessed with serial killers. I couldn't read enough about Bundy, Gacy, and the rest. My dad collected knives, and I loved to borrow them and show them off. You could back then, you know. I went by Jack, because I hated Jackson. Kids are assholes, and they called me Jack the Rippner all the time." He tossed the shopping bag in the backseat.

"Was that why you stopped going by Jack?" Lisa asked, pulling onto the freeway.

Jackson shook his head. "Teasing didn't bother me for the most part. I sort of liked the notoriety. Then I got in a fight with this kid because he got under my skin, and he pulled a knife on me. He was bigger than me and I got swiped before they broke us up." He paused, hearing a soft 'Jesus' from Lisa. When she said nothing else, he continued. "Caleb made a comment later that it was ironic that I got attacked with a I knife when _I_ was supposed to be the one cutting people up. I guess it just stopped being funny."

"You were stabbed when you were _ten_?" Lisa confirmed. Jackson shook his head.

"That's a little dramatic," he replied. "It was just a swipe. Nothing too deep. The guy sucked. Honestly, it was more embarrassing than anything." Lisa looked at him, and even though she said nothing, he could hear the 'why?' "My dad came down on me hard for letting the kid get the upper hand. He said he raised me as a man who ended fights, not a little boy who started them." He scowled. How had they gone from a lighthearted story about irritating his mom with gibbering "Rock Me Amadeus" to this? He eyed her. She was obviously analyzing him again.

"Yes, Dr. Lisa?" he asked, irritated that his question came out as more of a pout than condescending.

"Do you think that going by Jackson instead of Jack was more because you were trying to show people you were adult, not because you hated the nickname?"

Jackson sighed and rubbed his eyes with one hand, squeezing the bridge of his nose. It unnerved him that she did this so easily, and he refused to acknowledge that his father had an influence on the man he was now, even if it were true and downright predictable. "I don't know. Why don't you tell me since you're such an expert on my motivations?" Lisa was silent. _One step back...all defenses at 100%._

He flipped the radio on, but changed it to a 60's station instead. He turned to look out the window.

A few songs passed, and Lisa spoke up again. "Is your whole...agency-" she seemed unsure what to call it, "-political?"

Jackson shook his head. "It's a lot bigger than that. It's mostly political, but there are people who do other things. I don't know anything about them, though. Don't really care, either."

"Why doesn't the government take care of these problems?" she asked.

Jackson smiled weakly. "War is too important to be left to politicians," he replied, knowing that she would get the reference.

Lisa nodded, smirking slightly. "How did you get into it?" she asked.

"I told you. My uncle was part of it. Caleb and I joined after college." Jackson replied in a clipped tone, cracking the window open and lighting a cigarette. He didn't see why any of this mattered.

"What did you go to college for?"

Jackson sighed. "Political science and business administration. Caleb was pre-med. He always wanted to be a doctor, but he followed me into the agency for a few years." He frowned. "He ended up going back for his medical degree, obviously. I never really understood why. I mean, he told me, but I still don't understand."

"Maybe-"

"I don't really want to talk about it anymore, Leese," he interrupted, closing his eyes. He was so tired, and her questions were getting on his nerves again. He briefly wondered if this was what it was like to be famous- always being asked irrelevant questions and having to talk about yourself. It was a good thing he would always remain anonymous, because this was already old. "Besides," he began, changing the subject, "I have a present for you."

He reached in the glove compartment and grabbed the thick envelope. "New ID and a phone." He pulled out her new ID, smiling softly. He had been keeping this a secret, hoping to surprise her. "Your new name is Joanne Rebecca Lawson."

Lisa turned to him, her eyes wide. "Jo?" she smiled. "Thank you."

Jackson nodded. "I was going to go with Josephine, but I figured that name stands out too much." He grinned. "You get to have J.R. in your name and keep your L."

She smiled wider, looking a little choked up. "Thanks."

"Mhm," Jackson replied, staring out the window again. He yawned widely and tossed his cigarette out the window, taking a drink of water. Lisa seemed to take the hint, and was silent. The only sound in the car was the quiet radio music. Jackson found himself drifting off, and soon he was in a familiar house back in Roberts, Wisconsin.

Jackson walked from the garage into the living room. The room didn't look right- there was more shadow than he recalled. He glanced around, watching in confusion as the darkness danced along the wall. He stepped back as the shadows drifted closer to him, almost as through the black was reaching toward him.

His attention was captured by feminine whimpers coming from the corner. As the shadows surrounded him, he saw only the outlines of two figures. He slowly stepped forward, and as he got closer, he made out the familiar scene of a terrified woman being pressed to the wall. A knife was being held to her throat by a larger man. Although the woman was obviously terrified, she made no sounds apart from the same whimpers that had caught his attention. She was somehow remaining defiant. He realized that the small woman was Lisa.

Jackson tried to run to her aid, but found that he was suddenly unable to move. He tried to yell for her to run, for the man to stop, but no sound escaped his throat. He turned his attention to the man, who was still facing away from him. Jackson looked down and discovered that he was being held in place by the shadows. They were creeping up his legs and quickly bound his arms to his sides. He was being swallowed alive. The last thing he saw before the choking darkness completely enveloped him was the other man slowly turning to face him. He saw only his own face- the icy blue eyes, the clenched jaw, the sadistic smile playfully tugging at his lips.

Suddenly, Jackson found himself in front of Lisa. He was now holding the knife to her throat, watching her fight between cowering and lashing out at him. He tried to pull the knife away, but the more he struggled, the tighter the blade pressed into her pale skin. He felt bile rising in his throat as he watched a small stream of blood start to drip down her neck, pooling in the hollow above her collar bone. She hissed and bit down hard on her lip, causing another crimson pool under her teeth.

"We've got to get out of here!" Jackson spun to his left when he heard another voice. He saw his brother standing in front of him, kicking at the shadows that were now attacking with a new kind of aggression. "What have you done?" He turned back to Lisa and realized in horror that when he had turned to look at his brother, he had inadvertently slashed his blade across her throat. She was crumpled on the ground, her life pouring onto the floor around her.

Jackson forced himself to look back at Caleb, but he could still hear the wet coughing from the woman near his feet. He tried to follow his brother, but found that his legs wouldn't move again. "...Help," he managed to gasp out, but his voice sounded muted, and the one word was a battle itself. Dutifully, Caleb was at his side, his hands gripping at Jackson's arm.

Jackson could only let out a silent cry as the shadows climbed up his back and absorbed into his arms. He felt himself throw Caleb to the ground, felt himself be pulled to the ground, but it wasn't a voluntary action. He felt like he had no control over his own body, and could only watch his own hand grip his Benchmark and drive it into Caleb's chest. He screamed in horror as his own brother's blood rushed out of the wound, but he knew he wasn't making a sound. "You shouldn't have come after me," he heard himself say. All Jackson could do was watch in silent agony as Caleb's eyes began to glaze over, his gaze fixed on something that just wasn't there.

He gritted his teeth and tried with all of his might, eventually reaching out to grip his little brother's hand. He wanted to apologize, but it was useless. Caleb was all but gone. Jackson's gaze shifted to where Lisa lay, but all he saw was blood and emptiness. He felt the knife be wrenched from his grip, and glanced up to see the tiny woman standing over him. She knelt down and stroked his cheek softly, turning him onto his back.

Jackson tried to avert his gaze, but he could stop staring at the wound on her throat, the blood coating her chest and seeping down her shirt to her stomach. He couldn't move, couldn't help, and couldn't take anything back.

"I did my best," he heard her say, but he didn't see her lips move. "This is your fault." He wanted to argue, wanted to ask how it could possibly be his fault when he was trying as hard as he could to stop it. Without another word, the redhead plunged the knife into him. He writhed internally as he felt the blade sink itself into his lung. He was unable to breathe for blood flooding his throat. Lisa collapsed, her body draping over his. He felt Caleb's hand squeezing his, and looked over, watching his brother staring at him, his breathing as labored as Jackson's. He looked down and saw Lisa also staring at him.

Jackson brought his other hand up to cradle Lisa's head, pulling her closer to him. He didn't feel pain anymore. He only felt powerless as the darkness seeped further into his body, completely overtaking him. As he drifted into unconsciousness, the last thing he saw was Lisa staring at him, her eyes full of hurt, anger, betrayal, and death.

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**The lyric "I take two steps forward/I take two steps back" is from Paula Abdul's "Opposites Attract". "War is too important to be left to politicians" is a line from Dr. Strangelove or: How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love the Bomb.**

**Thoughts? Reviewers get a falsetto rendition of "Like a Prayer" from Jackson!**

**Also, the next chapter is going to be written with this song in mind: www. youtube watch?v=9RJG3_smRTY... you can guess what that means!**


	16. Sweet Surrender

**A few new things are going on! **

**One, I realized earlier this week that Blood and Roses has transformed from the decent plot I originally planned into a twisted, heavy, and overall much better story. This isn't because of me- it's because of my reviewers! You guys push me to set my bar higher and really think about where I want the story to go. I've had quite a few comments stating that the writing is getting better with each chapter, and if so, you have only yourselves to thank! As a thank you, I've started sending PMs to each reviewer giving them a small preview of the next chapter. THANK YOU SO MUCH!**

**Two, I have a beta! Thanks a million to She Who Shines for meeting up with me online and letting me ramble about plot points and ideas. It really helps me improve the plot not to mention polish each chapter.**

**pinky's creature feature:** Glad to hear that I inspire bad behavior. Always a great motivator!

**trudes193:** Thanks for the review! I already PM'd you with my comments, so I won't repeat here. :)

**Jesscah:** Thanks for noticing the contrast! There will be a lot of it in the rest of the story, as you'll see in this chapter. And I plan on putting more of Jackson and Lisa's backstories from this point on.

**son-of-puji:** All we need to do is make some joke about joining forces with the other writers to infiltrate the government with our knowledge, and our fate will be sealed...(disregard that joke, Agent Smecker!)

**Medisha:** You are forgiven because of this great review! It's always heart-warming to see that people appreciate the thought and work that go into writing in-depth stories.

**Jk:** Glad you liked it. There's more of that to come!

**If you missed the link from the previous chapter, I would recommend listening to Sarah McLauchlan's Sweet Surrender (or at least looking up the lyrics) before reading this chapter.**

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**Chapter 16: Sweet Surrender**

The last hour of the ride to the Dallas/Fort Worth Airport was made in relative silence. Jackson spent most of it staring out the window. Lisa had tried to start a few conversations, but he just wasn't in the mood. He had woken up earlier, and felt nothing but a tightness in his chest. He wasn't sure why.

Instead of talking, Jackson thought. He thought about Caleb, Lisa, Cheryl, Robert, Keefe, Marie, and himself. Three weeks ago, his life was in order. He was on track with his job; the Keefe job was all but done. Marie had faith in him, because he was the best. He was the go-to guy for any political job you needed to have done. Terminate a plot formed by a collection of Frenchmen to discourage immigration by staging a series of attacks on the _banlieue _Clichy-sous-Bois? Boring. Take out of the main weapons ring in Austria, piece by piece? Child's play. Take out four major personnel in the United States government within a week of each other? Should have been dull.

Jackson had been to more countries in the last two years than most people plan to visit in their post-lottery winning dreams. He had been to all of Europe and yet seen nothing but targets, tools, and marks. He had turned strategy into an art, and had set up expertly-laid barriers all around him. No one was allowed inside- even him at times. He could count the number of people who truly knew him on one hand and have fingers to spare.

His relationship with Caleb was far less than idyllic, but he had refused to let himself think about it. The two had spent the first twenty-three years of their life inseparable. Even as kids, Caleb was considered Jackson's more outgoing shadow. He followed him everywhere, and they did everything together. They shared the same circle of friends, although Caleb had always been closer to them than he was.

Images long past flitted across Jackson's mind, memories of sneaking out for their first cigarette, when they had accidentally started a small fire in the field and had worked frantically to put it out before someone noticed. The hours spent swimming together in the community and school pools, racing each other lap after lap. Sometimes Jackson let Caleb win, just to laugh at the look of frustrated knowing on his younger brother's face. When Caleb had his first "serious" girlfriend and Jackson had to explain to him how to stop being horrible at sex. Caleb took him at his word even though Jackson didn't have any more experience than he did, and the two shared a laugh when the younger remarked that he might be better if she didn't just lay there. The hours they spent as partners, out on stake outs just talking about life and yet nothing at the same time. So much laughing.

Jackson wasn't laughing anymore. Just like everything else, those years were gone. When Caleb had gone back to school, they had drifted further and further apart. Jackson was quickly transforming into a cold-blooded killer, and Caleb was a warmer, compassionate man. He couldn't help but wonder how much of the person he had become was due to this separation. _Maybe Lisa would know. _Throughout everything, Caleb had been his anchor and in a way, his sanity. He was the only person Jackson never felt that he had to explain himself to, because he already knew the answers.

Jackson and Lisa arrived at the airport and checked in.

As they walked past the Tex-Mex, Lisa looked at him.

"Maybe we should get something to eat?" she asked teasingly, but Jackson could hear how much she was struggling to sound lighthearted. He saw the questions in her eyes, and knew that she was hoping he would open up to her.

"Not hungry," he responded with a halfhearted wave. He felt a sharp pang in his chest when she looked at him with disappointment and pity. She tried to take his hand, but he yanked it away. "Go," he said firmly. He bit his lip as he watched her. She was obviously contemplating refusing, but she thankfully gave in and walked away. He felt a strong urge to follow her, forget his stewing and just share a private joke while they sat and ate nachos, but he crushed the desire and threw himself onto a chair in the waiting area instead.

Jackson thought back to the night that he and Caleb sat in their living room in their shared apartment in Brooklyn. They were twenty-three, and coming down from a post-job high. Nothing too high-profile; just a murder of the leaders of a weapons ring in Harlem. Something was nagging at Caleb's mind.

After his second glass of whiskey, Jackson was irritated enough to finally ask Caleb what was bothering him.

"I'm going back to school," Caleb admitted quietly. "I passed my MCAT and got accepted into Harvard." Jackson choked on his drink and had to hit himself in the chest to stop his coughing. He had no idea Caleb had even been _planning_ on going back to school, let alone had already taken the MCAT. How had he missed it? "It's what I want to do," the younger man continued, staring at his half-empty glass.

"Why?" Jackson hissed. _Why are you leaving me?_ Caleb sighed.

"Marie told me that the agency needs doctors on the inside." He tilted the glass around, watching the liquid sway. "You know I wanted to become a surgeon someday." He sounded oddly betrayed, which just bewildered Jackson more, because _he_ was the one having the rug pulled out from underneath him. "I think I could be more helpful putting people together than ripping them apart."

Jackson scoffed, watching his brother from the corner of his eye. He couldn't look him straight in the face. "Bullshit. You're the best shot of any of us."

Caleb shrugged. "So? People like me are a dime a dozen." He glanced at Jackson. "Jesus, you might try to be supportive. This is a big deal, you know. They don't just let anyone into _Harvard._" Jackson finished his third glass and poured another.

"_Harvard_," he mocked. "So you think you're better than all of this now?"

His brother smiled sadly. "Yes," he admitted. "I am better than this life." It didn't escape Jackson that although he chose his words carefully, the implication that the older brother was part of 'this life' was definitely there. He said nothing, biting down hard on his lip. "I told Cheryl. She supports it."

_Fucking Cheryl._ Jackson took too big of a swallow, and suppressed the urge to cough. He would not show weakness now. Cheryl was his friend, but it was becoming more and more obvious that she was part of the problem. Jackson would have to be blind not to notice how much Caleb was changing ever since he had decided that he loved her. In the last few months, Caleb's priorities had seemed to shift.

Jackson had done his best to act supportive, but he harbored a secret that he would never share with anyone. He resented Cheryl, and Caleb's little confession was a perfect example of why. It was obvious that Caleb was confiding more in her than in him. He thought things would be better when Marie had moved her to a different unit, but apparently they were just as tight, maybe more so. Jackson knew in his heart that Cheryl was replacing him, and he couldn't stand it.

"We're getting married," Caleb confessed. Three words, and the rest of Jackson's world was completely shaken. It was true. He had been right. Jackson quickly rose to his feet, disturbing the open bottle of whiskey that had been on the floor next to him. He hardly noticed the brown liquid pouring freely onto the carpet. He just knew that the contents of his stomach were churning, and he had to get out of that room as soon as possible.

"Congratulations," he forced out, and made beeline for his room. In his drunken state, he felt the stinging of potential tears in his eyes, and he _refused_ to cry in front of Caleb. He just would not do it. Unfortunately, the younger man was at his heels.

"Can't you at least _pretend_ to be happy for me?" he demanded, his voice rising. Jackson could tell that he was also on the verge of tears, but knew that he couldn't care less if Jackson saw. He said nothing and walked into his room, slamming the door behind him.

It was too late for Jackson to hide. "What did you think was going to happen?" he heard Caleb yell from the other side of the door. "Did you think that it was just going to be you and me forever, just going from job to job killing people until we either grow old or get killed ourselves?" Jackson paced around his room, trying to shut his brother out. In a way, Caleb was right. He had taken for granted that they would always be the most important people in each other's lives, that others would come and go, and they would remain.

Caleb continued to pick at Jackson's gaping wound. "I'm not sorry," he insisted. "I want more than _this_." Jackson stopped short. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Was he _'this'_? He threw the door open and delivered a solid punch to Caleb's face, sending the surprised younger man back into the wall.

Caleb didn't stay down for long and came back at Jackson with a hard hit of his own. Jackson launched himself at him, and the two grappled on the floor of the hallway, punching and kicking at each other furiously. Jackson landed one last punch to his brother's face and struggled to his feet. His nose was bleeding freely, along with a gash on his head from Caleb knocking him into the door frame with his first hit. With each intake of air he felt stabbing pains in his side, and knew he had some cracked ribs and what felt like a fractured wrist, maybe some sprained fingers. Caleb stayed on the ground, but stared at him with a defiant fire in his eyes. He looked worse than Jackson felt, and it broke his heart.

He didn't want to back down, but they had both had enough. "I wish you nothing but happiness," Jackson spat, and summoned the last of his strength to storm back into his room.

Jackson absently brought a hand to his perfectly fine ribs. He was back in the waiting area, but he would never forget the physical and emotional pain he felt that night. Things were different after that. The two had somewhat mended their relationship before too long, but Jackson felt like there was a large part of Caleb that he just didn't know anymore. They had never spoken of their fight. He didn't know if Caleb had even told Cheryl about it- neither scenario would surprise him.

From what Lisa had said, Caleb interpreted the night as Jackson being disappointed in him and nothing more. He seemed to have no idea of Jackson's bitterness toward Cheryl. Of course, Jackson had also gotten over that...for the most part. He accepted that she was important to Caleb, and that it wasn't her fault that the two had grown apart. He still blamed her irrationally for taking his brother from him, but he kept it well hidden from both of them.

He had attended Caleb's graduation from Harvard, and had hugged his brother tightly before and after, admitting that he was truly proud of the younger man. He had been the best man at the wedding, and had given a completely appropriate speech. Two weeks ago, he had listened to Caleb admit that he and Cheryl were growing apart, that they didn't see eye to eye on children- he wanted them, and she wasn't ready-, and that they hadn't had sex in almost four months, and had tried to offer him genuine support. He had noticed that she was never affectionate toward Caleb, at least when he was around, and had attributed it to Cheryl's personality. She was not known for being sentimental or showing softer emotions.

Jackson couldn't even imagine what was going on in Caleb's head. Through the meager bond they still had, he could hear the absolute pain in his brother's voice, masked by rage. As strong an urge he felt to slit Cheryl's throat, he felt an even stronger urge to be there, hugging his little brother tightly until the pain subsided. He also understood with bitterness that even if he were there, it just simply wasn't an option anymore. They could never pick up where they left off five years ago. It would take months, maybe years of commitment before they could fully repair their relationship.

_Cheryl_. Try as he might, Jackson could not understand what happened with Cheryl. When did she change so much? It was one thing to stop loving your husband, possibly to want a divorce, but to attempt to carry out a plot to kill him? Where was the connection that Jackson was obviously missing? Why would she want to _kill_ Caleb, and why in his own place? These same questions had been running through his mind _ad nauseum_ since he had received Caleb's telephone call, and he was no closer to figuring things out than he was then.

Jackson held his head in his hands, wincing at the pain coming from his chest. Then there was Lisa. He had watched her for almost two months, and he found her inexplicably entrancing. At first, it was her physical beauty, which was odd considering that while she was an attractive woman, he knew that most would consider her above average, but not breathtakingly stunning. He found her so alluring almost from the start, and his attraction just grew the more he watched her.

When he saw the outgoing mask she wore in public in contrast to the shattered shell of a girl she was in her apartment, he had a feeling that somewhere in between was a perfect blend, a woman who was both sweet and sad. If he were being sentimental, he might think of her as a fallen angel that he felt a strange pull toward. He had been able to suppress these feelings until the day of the funeral. It was a deviation from the plan, and he had to watch her at all times. With her pale skin contrasting with her dark attire, both the friendly mask and the broken pieces on display, she had never intrigued him more.

It was that desire that broke him in their first meeting. It was the reason he had given his real name and invited her for a friendly drink. For that half hour, the first he spent being acknowledged by her, he had lost his head. With the flight delays, he had somehow convinced himself that time itself was being put on hold, that the plan didn't exist, and they were just two strangers in an airport trying to get home.

He had asked her questions about her job, and even though he already knew the answers, he tried to pretend that he didn't. He made his observations about her into a little game, pretending to guess her favorite drink. When she lied, it broke his illusion slightly, but when she started talking about Henrietta, giving him information he didn't know, the game was right back in play. He just enjoyed the conversation until the announcement that they were boarding the flight to Miami. He was catapulted back into reality, and she was back to being a tool, a device required to complete the job.

The events of the flight quickly flooded through him. The tears, the fear, the struggles, the pen in his windpipe. Jackson touched the mostly-healed scab on his throat. She surprised and secretly elated him by fighting him every step of the way. Except the scar. He was still embarrassed for reacting the way he did when she had lied about her scar, not that he would ever admit it.

He had never been able to come up with a rational reason for his blow up. He finally had to admit to himself that it was a man-childish response to her reaffirming the knowledge that to her, he was nothing but a cold-blooded monster and that she would _never_ think of him as anything else. He would never have what he wanted so badly, a chance with her. When he had seen the scar, all of his professionalism had melted, and he saw her broken pieces again. He didn't blame her for lying- he was just hurt that she had done so, angry at himself for being hurt, and he irrationally took his anger out on her.

In Lisa's lies, he saw every failed relationship- his parents, his brother, and now this intoxicating woman who he could never have.

Jackson gripped his hair. She drove him absolutely insane, and the worst part was that she did it completely unknowingly. She was an involuntary seductress. He wanted to tell her everything about him, but at the same time was terrified that the more he let on what a flawed person he was, the faster she would run as soon as she got what she wanted from him.

He felt such a strong urge to confide in her, to tell him how badly his failing relationship with his brother was hurting him. He wanted her to know that he did feel guilt for what happened with his parents, but that had blocked those feelings for twelve years and he just didn't know how to face them anymore. He wanted to make her promise to keep him from killing Cheryl on the spot for what she had done. He wanted to apologize for all the times he had yelled at her, to make her understand that even though he regretted them, he didn't know how to let someone in anymore. He wanted her to keep fighting through his barriers, to promise to never leave him.

Jackson shook his head. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to squash the headache that was pounding away. He had to stop doing this to himself. This was a dangerous game that he was playing, and it was exhausting him. He was well aware that Lisa's feelings for him were mutual. He knew that she would keep fighting his defenses, whether or not he asked her to. That wasn't the problem.

The problem was that she didn't belong in his world. She was too innocent, too pure. Her rediscovered strength was too new, and he felt like he was taking advantage of it for his own benefit. What he didn't know was how real these feelings for him were. He didn't know that when things calmed down, and she wasn't bound to him by necessity if she would continue to feel for him, or realize just how awful he was. Even if it was for a good reason, he had to acknowledge that he killed without remorse, and she was a hotel manager whose father was dead because of him. The fact that it was inadvertent just didn't matter.

He winced, reaching through his bag for a bottle of aspirin. The headache was growing, a perfect symbol of the battle that he was losing. Even as he yelled at her, trying his best to keep her at a distance, in the back of his mind, he thought about kissing her. As he tried to convince himself that he was no good for her, he wanted nothing more than to bury his face in her hair and just not give a shit about the reality anymore. He planned her escape from him after the trip to Miami was over, but he dreamt about running his fingers along every inch of that beautiful porcelain skin.

Jackson popped the aspirin in his mouth and realizing that he had nothing to wash them down, swallowed hard. He groaned softly, trying to give the medication time to work. The pain continued to grow, and he realized that it was a symptom of this internal battle. He rose to his feet, flinging his bag over his shoulder. Aspirin wouldn't work any more than lying to himself. He was tired of fighting.

He had spent so many years of his life suppressing his emotions, and within a few weeks, Lisa had managed to unravel everything. She had brought pain that he had successfully avoided rushing back to his surface, and he had to admit that it was too late to lock it all away again. He needed that connection. He wanted so much to look into someone's eyes and see himself, and the eyes he imagined were green, feminine, and searching just as much as he was.

Jackson quickly found himself at the Tex-Mex, in front of Lisa. She sat at the bar, running her finger along the rim of a glass containing a half-finished sea breeze. She looked up at him, confusion in her features. Jackson opened his mouth to say something, but realized that there were no words. He simply grabbed her good arm and yanked her to her feet.

Lisa gave a surprised gasp, but he instantly smothered it with his own lips. It wasn't a gentle kiss. He wasn't asking permission or carefully exploring her mouth. It was a hungry kiss, feral and needy. Lisa's hand was quickly on his chest, and he realized with a shot of panic that she was about to push him away. Instead, he let out a low growl when he felt her delicate fingers wrap around his shirt front and grip tightly.

In fact, the tiny woman was matching his intensity. She quickly shifted her arm around the back of his neck and pressed herself even more tightly against him. Jackson welcomed this, burying one hand in her hair and pressing the other firmly on the small of her back. He didn't even care that the pressure of her body against his was causing pain to his wounds. The pain enhanced the pleasure of finally letting go and devouring the woman in front of him. He could taste her drink still tart on her tongue and at the same time, her fear, pain, and passion. He felt his own turmoil being carefully soothed, as though she were absorbing the agony that had been building up in his core.

The kiss said everything that he had been unable to say: _Don't leave me. Please help me. I need you. I'm sorry._

The two settled into calmer caresses between their lips as the initial intensity faded, but neither was willing to pull away first. Jackson smiled softly against her lips. The pounding in his head was completely gone. The last of his defenses were shattered, and in this action, he knew that he had surrendered to her. He placed one more kiss on her lips, sucking gently on her bottom lip, before pulling away.

He took in the face of the woman in his arms. Her lips were slightly swollen, her cheeks were flushed, and a look of ecstasy danced in her eyes. It occurred to him that they both had been waiting more than just the last week or two for this to happen. It was possible that they had waited for a majority of their lives.

Lisa spoke first, her voice huskier than usual. "I think you owe me some nachos, Rippner."

* * *

**I think now would be a fantastic time to go on another year and a half hiatus. Problem?**


	17. Running

**Okay, when I threatened a hiatus, I didn't except that things were going to suck (a lot) after that and it would take me two months to update. Basically, I didn't pass a class and won't graduate until December, I had a brutal breakup, and other smaller things that encouraged me to sit in my apartment and sulk. I hope I haven't lost too many readers while I got my stuff together.**

**I'm going back to Lisa's POV for a while since we haven't been able to see her mindset lately. That definitely added to the writer's block- I'm used to writing Jackson, and I got kind of attached to him. This chapter is a little...meh to me, but I decided to just hammer it out so I can get them to Miami- I have a LOT planned for these two, but they have to get there, dammit. **

**trudes193-** I know I've mentioned this, but I LOVE your forbidden fruit analogy. I keep it in mind when I write for them, but since we're in Lisa's brain now, there obviously won't be as much of it for a while.

**pinky's creature feature-** Yes, they're right back where they started. I really need to work on my subtlety. :D

**empirex-** Thanks! This chapter doesn't hold a candle to the previous few, but I hope you like it anyway.

**Medisha-** I'm glad I didn't get you in trouble in math (or at least a fairly embarrassed). Hope school went/is going well, and thanks as always for your support.

**Jesscah-** It's going to get her in a little bit of trouble. :) I saw that you updated. I haven't checked out the newer chapters until I had time to really read them, so you should see some reviews from me soon.

**son-of-puji-** Gah, I love your reviews so much. To be honest, I think my lack of Jackson's inner thoughts totally ruined this chapter since most of what was happening with him was internal and we aren't going to see it much.

**AmberOz-** Finally got you guys a new chapter. Always great to hear from a new voice!

**waitingfortoday-** Okay, I need to sit down and respond to your past reviews. I've been really sucking at keeping my brain organized lately. :( As for the nomination, my cats will be so proud! :D

**Knowledge is a powerful tool-** (Yes it is) Thanks! I get so worried about rushing over time that I end up scared that I'm dragging the story out way too much. Really nice to hear that the pace is flowing nicely for you.

**Pirate Gyrl-** There's a quote floating around that I think you'd like- "A kiss is a lovely trick, designed by nature, to stop words when speech becomes unnecessary." It's attributed to Ingrid Bergman, but who knows? Anyway, thanks so much for the PM- ironically, by telling me to take my time you helped push me to keep writing, editing, and re-writing this much faster than I thought that I would. No worries about skipping chapter reviews sometimes- we all have things going on in our lives.

**TheSilverWolfisBack-** Thanks! Love your screenname, too!

**Clavis Salomonis-** Ooh, I caused figurative bodily harm with my words! That makes me feel a little devious. :P

**Enjoy.**

* * *

**Chapter 17: Running**

As soon as Lisa said the words, she could feel that the moment was broken. The blue in Jackson's eyes sharpened, and he quickly glanced around, breaking eye contact. Lisa gave a sideways glance. She saw a few people staring- some interested, and some irritated, but for the most part, the patrons were minding their own business.

Jackson took a step back, clearing his throat. "Yeah, you're right," he murmured. He walked briskly to a table. Lisa grabbed her drink and followed his lead. She frowned as she watched him fidget. She absently ran a finger down the side of her glass, trying to compose herself. Jackson had given her the most amazing kiss of her life, and now he was acting as though he hardly knew her. She knew that she deserved to know why the sudden change, but she couldn't put her words in the right order. At least, she couldn't put them in any other order than _'What the hell is going on?'_

The longer the silence dragged on, the more irritated Lisa got. She clenched her jaw, crossing and uncrossing her legs under the table. She drummed her fingers briskly on the table, staring straight at Jackson. For his part, he seemed to not notice, but she wasn't stupid. He _was_ putting so much effort into not noticing that it seemed obvious to her that he was well aware of her irritation.

Jackson finally made eye contact with her, and Lisa was both amazed and disgusted that he managed to have that same chill in his eyes that she had seen on their flight, as though the last few days had never happened. "Use words," he said softly, "I'm not playing these games with you."

Lisa's jaw dropped. A thousands questions battled for release. _You don't play mind games? How can you pretend you have no idea what is pissing me off? What the hell is going on? _"I'm done with this," she finally spat, slamming her hands on the table as she rose to her feet. She quickly exited the Tex-Mex, not caring if he was at her heels or not.

Sure enough, Jackson called her name, but Lisa didn't stop until she was forced to by his hand on her arm. She quickly yanked it away. "I'm done," she repeated, "I'm getting a different flight." Her eyes narrowed. "You're insane." She knew her remark had hit home when Jackson didn't laugh it off or roll his eyes at her. Instead, he immediately sobered.

"What do you want?" he asked, and Lisa couldn't hear any irony or teasing in his voice. He seemed to genuinely be asking the question. Her eyebrows furrowed in disbelief.

"How can you even ask?" she snapped. "You just kissed me." Again, no smart remark from the man in front of her, no _'I wasn't aware' _or _'Is that what that was?' _It was a more than a little unnerving to see him bouncing from persona to persona so quickly. "Now you're acting like...Manager Jackson."

Jackson pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes tightly. He exhaled sharply. "Alright, look..." he began. He motioned toward a nearby set of chairs in the waiting area with a questioning look in his eyes. Lisa walked to the area, and he followed. She dropped in the seat and eyed him suspiciously.

"Explain," she said shortly. She had no patience left. She was well aware that they were sitting in the airport that they had met in, that he had kissed her in the very place where he had begun his deception. She had been trying not to let on, but she definitely felt awkward here with him again- it was reminding her of just how good he was at getting what he wanted out of people and the insane glint in his eyes when his plans were thwarted.

Jackson ran a hand through his hair. He was obviously uncomfortable, and Lisa wondered if she was going to have to fight it out of him. She was wondering if she even wanted to when he finally spoke again. "I'm sorry," he admitted, turning his head slightly to avoid eye contact. He fell silent again, and Lisa studied him. Her anger was fading surprisingly quickly as she took the opportunity to think over the recent events- mainly, his silence for the past few hours.

She wondered what he had been thinking about alone in that waiting area. She had watched him from the bar for a few moments, and it had been obvious that he was struggling with something internal based on his pained body language. She remembered very well the look on his face when he had appeared in front of her. His eyes had spoken volumes, but in a foreign language. She would have to have been blind not to see the raw sadness and desperate confusion written all over his face and posture. And that kiss. It was so primal, and she had felt like he was attempting to consume her completely in those few seconds. She realized that she had been wrong. The ice in his eyes was not the same she had seen previously. She saw no arrogance in this man in front of her- just a hollow attempt to recreate the hard exterior.

Lisa reached forward and tentatively took Jackson's hand in hers. Her heart sank when he squeezed it tightly. As much as she hated manager Jackson, she at least learned how to counter him. This broken man in front of her was hardly an improvement. It was how she imagined it would feel to see a malfunctioning dam full to the brim and about to explode, knowing that when it did, you would be immediately drowned along with everything in the vicinity.

She could tell that Jackson had to get all of these demons out of him. What she wasn't sure of was whether or not she had the strength to weather the looming storm. It occurred to her that she was already in too deep, or was she telling herself that because she was too afraid to stand up for herself? Was this just more of her compulsion to make those around her happy?

No. Something told her that she could walk away from him at any point, and he wouldn't come after her. At least, not with malice.

Lisa was undeniably drawn toward Jackson. She did not see a monster anymore. She saw a man who had completely locked himself away as a necessity of the line of work that he was in, a line of work that while at first glance was repulsive, she had respect for. She believed wholeheartedly that what he did was at least for the good of the country, maybe the much of the world. It was heroic in its own way, and she couldn't imagine having the strength to make some of the decisions that she both knew and imagined that he was constantly making. It was little wonder that he had turned into a calculating machine of a man, seeing people as marks and targets. Yet at the same time, she saw the humanity in him, the obvious dedication to what he did and why he did it. Beyond that, she saw the hidden issues- his absolute commitment to his brother, the unresolved pain that his parents had caused, and how hurt he was by what Cheryl was doing. These emotions-

Lisa stopped herself, frowning again. "I'm not your therapist," she blurted in irritation, and immediately bit her lip when he quickly pulled his hand away from hers. "I mean, I can't keep analyzing you," she explained softly, bringing her hand forward to slide her fingers gently across his jawline. "If this is really going to work, I need you to talk to me...you can tell me anything, you know."

Jackson's eyes fluttered closed and he sighed. "I'm tired, Leese," he replied, and she didn't think that he meant physically. "I want to...shut it off...but I _can't_." He leaned into her touch. Lisa chewed her lower lip. He was being so cryptic again. Why couldn't he see that she needed to know what was going on in his head?

Heart racing, she leaned closer to him. Their faces were inches apart. "You _can_," she insisted, knowing that she was risking repelling him yet again. It was a chance that she had to take though, because she couldn't bring herself to take that next step with him if he couldn't talk to her without making it into a fight. At some point, something had to give, and that point was now.

"I don't think this is a good idea," he murmured, closing the gap between them and pressing his cheek to hers. "If you knew me, you wouldn't be here." Lisa brought her hand up to the top of his head, slowly running her fingers through his hair. She felt for him- it was obvious that while he said one thing, his actions were saying something completely different. She just didn't know how to make it easier for him to stop fighting himself.

"Let me decide," she replied just as softly, turning her head slightly to press her lips to the soft area behind his jawline. "I want to know you." She felt him shiver slightly at her touch.

"You don't," he insisted, but didn't pull away. Lisa continued massaging his scalp. She could feel him relaxing.

"Try trusting me," she said, "Don't tell me what to think. I've listened to everything you have told me so far, and I'm still here, right?" Jackson scoffed, burying his face in her neck.

"So it was someone else announcing that they're leaving and calling me insane?" he asked teasingly, his voice muffled. "Impressive impersonation." Lisa grinned in spite of herself and tugged gently on his hair, earning a soft noise of faux indignation.

"You piss me off," she responded, but her anger had almost entirely evaporated by that point. "Why can't you trust me as much as I do you? You've already told me things that would make most people run. I'm still here. I don't have to be sitting here with you now. Isn't that enough?" She took it as a good sign when he made a non-committal grunt. At least he wasn't arguing. "I mean, how bad could it get? Unless you decapitated babies or something."

Jackson chuckled into her neck. "Dark," he muttered. The two stayed that way for a few silent moments before Lisa felt him sink into her, dropping his chin onto her shoulder. "Just...it won't be immediate or anything," he conceded. She could feel the heat of his cheek against her neck. "Don't walk out on me like that again." He said the last part so quietly that Lisa almost missed it despite his close proximity to her ear.

She tilted her head, her fingers halting. "For now," she replied. "But you have to do better." Jackson nodded slightly.

"I'll try," he said. Lisa smiled. She could hear the sincerity in his voice, and she allowed herself to entertain the thought that maybe it was going to be alright. She wasn't stupid. She didn't expect that things were magically going to fall into place and that she and Jackson would run away into a land of joy and sparkles, nor did she want that. There was something deeply intoxicating about the tension between them, the way that they stretched the other to their limit and beyond. She was doing things that she never though she would ever do, and she wasn't sure that she could handle it without him there.

Ever since her attack, she had thrived on regularity. She had a routine that she ran through every day, because routines left no room for surprise. For the week and a half after the red eye, her routine had been destroyed. The hotel had closed, so work wasn't an option. She was constantly being questioned by some government agency or another, so she couldn't stay shut up in her apartment all day. That wasn't an option anyway because Joe had insisted that she stay with him. It turned into a routine of violation- she was never just left alone, and it had of course put her on edge.

The more Lisa thought about it, the more she realized that she had not been truly alone in those seventeen days for more than a total of 24 hours, not including when she was sleeping. And of course there was nothing ordinary about the six days since her father's death. But now she was had a false identity. She was technically an accomplice of a high profile criminal, and a criminal herself. She had absolutely no concrete idea of what each day was going to look like, which should have terrified her. It definitely would have done so to the old Lisa, Manager Lisa. But no, she wasn't scared. She was apprehensive about certain aspects, but she had not put much thought into the idea that everything was so up in the air.

Lisa reluctantly disentangled herself from Jackson. She knew that they were probably attracting more attention, which was the last thing she wanted to be doing. She looked at Jackson, but he wasn't watching her. His attention was focused on a point behind her. "Just keep watching me and act normal," he said quietly, his voice suddenly serious. Lisa watched him sort through his bag with an seemingly casual air, but she could tell that he was moving purposefully. He fished out an old Yankees cap and placed it on her head. He tucked a few loose strands behind her ear, smiling warmly. "Very cute, babe," he admired, his voice now matching his face. Lisa frowned, confused by his actions. He nodded in an indication for her to turn around and when she did, she blanched at the sight of her own face on the TV screen. Obviously, Jackson was trying to disguise her.

"I can't see it, hon. Where are my glasses?" she lied and dug through her own bag. Why hadn't they thought to do this earlier? She slipped the glasses on, trying her hardest to feign half-interest in the update plastered under her photo. It looked like she had been seen in Miami with blonde hair. She glanced back at Jackson quizzically.

"False tip," Jackson murmured, grabbing a newspaper from the seat next to him and glancing through it. "We placed you in Miami. Cheryl has dyed blonde hair. In case any of her survives, it will help."

Lisa nodded. "Lucky that we're fairly similar, huh? If I was six feet tall or something..." She giggled softly, but then stopped. Was she really laughing about killing a woman?

"Way to not be a freak," he replied with amusement, eying her. He sighed, tossing the paper aside. "She deserves it." Lisa nodded. She knew that, but it didn't excuse what she had said. It was just another one of those times that she shocked herself with the person she was becoming.

"What happens after all this?" she asked, changing the subject from Cheryl. She didn't want to think about the other woman anymore. "How do I get credit cards?"

Jackson shook his head. "You can't," he replied. "Not now, anyway. You don't have a social security number. Those are harder to get." He turned to face her. "That means no bank account and you can't get a legit job or an apartment outside our network." Lisa's jaw dropped. She knew that she was going to have to be "on the run" for the rest of her life, but she hadn't understood what that meant.

"It's a prison, isn't it?" she asked quietly, slumping in her seat. Jackson shrugged.

"That's a little dramatic," he responded. "Listen, it's just not easy to have a complete identity anymore if you don't know what you're doing, not after 9-11. Do you think illegal immigrants who steal SSNs can live and work wherever they want?" Lisa nodded, but it didn't change her mind. She still saw her future as a limited cage.

"What about you?" she asked. He obviously 'knew what he was doing.' Maybe she could learn from him and eventually figure out how to broaden her horizons.

Jackson crossed his arms, matching her posture. "I've been John Klein, consultant, for years, Leese...seven. When Caleb and I joined, we got IDs that had been used by two other agents who had died and been taken before the whole crackdown. No records of their deaths, easy. I have an separate ID that most of the agency knows me by. And a million others that I've worked under." He poked the carpet with his shoe.

Lisa was impressed but also sympathetic. No wonder the guy was screwed up. "Do you ever worry that you'll just forget who you are?" she asked sadly. "Like you'll just get lost one day and Jackson just won't exist anymore?"

Jackson frowned. "He doesn't, really. No tax returns, no employment record. There's a useless business degree, high school swimming trophies, and some news clippings about a kid whose dad was killed by his mom. No family other than a brother who never mentions him- no wife, no kids, not even a goddamn pet." He rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his palm. "Doesn't matter."

Lisa had no idea what to say to this. "What about your future?" she asked, resting her head on his shoulder. She wanted so badly to offer him some kind of comfort even if he was content to pretend that it didn't bother him.

"What future?" he asked bitterly. "What about you?" he asked, seemingly done discussing himself for the time being. "Didn't you have dreams?"

Lisa considered this for a moment. "I guess I assumed that I'd eventually get married and have kids." She frowned. Any marriage she had now would be invalid without her real ID. Any kids she had would be living lies right along with her. She felt like she understood Jackson's comment- he was stuck in the present, and now she was there too. "I don't know," she continued, "I thought I'd probably stay in hotel management forever. I never wanted to get any higher, and I'm not really good at much else. Haven't wanted to do much else in a while." She laughed lightly. "They'll probably put 'died of boredom' on my tombstone."

Jackson laughed too. "Wouldn't surprise me. You'd probably just be walking around one day and then fall over and die because why not?" He glanced at her in the same mock suspicion he had given her on the plane. "Are you sure all this excitement isn't going to kill you?"

Lisa scoffed. "Probably. Then they can put 'Was very boring. Things got interesting...shame...I guess' on there instead." They both laughed again for a few seconds. Jackson rested his head against hers.

"Seriously," he said, and his words came out haltingly, as though he wasn't used to saying them. "How are you taking...everything? You keep asking about me...but I've kind of, I don't know, _ignored_ you." Lisa furrowed her eyebrows. She glanced around quickly, making sure that they were still well out of earshot.

"Well..." she began, "I've been kind of avoiding the big picture. A lot has happened, and it's been pretty horrible. I guess it's like, I can either obsess and cry about how unfair it is or I can make the most of it. I just keep telling myself that Dad didn't die so I could give up. I owe it to him to move on." She bit her lip. "That sounds horrible, right?"

"No," Jackson assured her. "A little cliched in some parts, but there's nothing wrong with surviving. You're not betraying him by not mourning all the time." He paused. "Do you still think you're in prison?"

Lisa nodded. "A bit," she replied. She found that it wasn't as awkward to open up to him as she thought it might be. It helped that they weren't making eye contact. She always felt that people were somehow judging her when they looked at her. "I'll adjust, but it's hard to think right now that I can only live and work in pre-approved places. It's like starting my life over."

"That's exactly what it is," he responded, glancing behind them as the boarding announcement for the final section was made. "I guess I don't have to say that we really need to watch what we say now, right?" Lisa nodded, but made no attempt to move. There was still a line to get on the plane, and they had no reason to rush to their seats.

"How are your injuries?" she asked, glancing up at his throat. There was still some scabbing, but it mostly healed. In retrospect, she was grateful that she didn't do permanent damage, at least not that she was aware of.

Jackson shrugged. "They're fine. I'll spare you the details, but I think I'll live. For now." He reached over and tapped the rim of her cap, knocking it down. "Just don't punch me, and things will be okay."

Lisa readjusted her cap and frowned. "For what it's worth," she said, taking his hand, "I'm not sorry." She grinned wickedly. It wasn't really a lie. She didn't like seeing him in pain, but she didn't regret what she did to him.

He rolled his eyes and gave her a mock laugh. "I'd question your sanity if you were," he replied, and rose to his feet. Lisa followed suit, grabbing her bag.

"No really," she said, grabbing his hand to keep him from walking. "Thank you, I guess. Not for _everything_, but for now...I'd be dead if it wasn't for you." She wanted to elaborate, to explain that she meant that beyond helping her with a new identity, she was convinced that having him around was helping her find herself. She had never felt like less of a shell of a person than she did around him. She didn't feel like she had to please him like she did with everyone else in her life. In fact, attempting to pacify Jackson only seemed to irritate him. She just didn't think she had the words to make him understand yet. He would probably just say that she was being sappy.

He looked at her with those piercing eyes. She could tell he had something on his mind, but all that came out was "Sure." She smiled and leaned up, stealing a quick kiss from his lips. Jackson flung his bag over his shoulder and began walking to the counter. "Oh," he said, turning back around. "You kind of look like a boy."

Lisa raised an eyebrow. He was trying to get a rise out of her, but it wouldn't work. "And you kissed me."

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**Like I said earlier, I think the chapter is lacking due to the POV switch. It won't last long- as of next chapter (if not, the one after that), the POV is going to switch around since our favorite couple is going to be split up at certain times and doing their own thing. So no worries, we'll get Jackson back soon.**

**A little side note- when I was going through my iTunes trying to find good titles for this chapter, I came across "Let Them Hoes Fight". I ultimately decided against it, but it's just some trivia for you.**

**I feel like I should explain why I made Jackson and Lisa have that kiss only to bring the conflict back right away. It was definitely time for something to happen with these two, but I adamantly refuse to believe that they would go from all the angst to a cute lil bunny couple. **

**As always, reviews are my fuel. They should be in Miami in the next chapter, and we'll get some deeeeaaaaaath.**


	18. Vow

**Wow. Chapter 17 got more hits in 4 days than chapter 16 did in 10. That's a little insane. :) To my reviewers: I'm really sorry for not sending previews this time. I'll make sure to give you a nice present for chapter 19.**

**trudes193:** Honestly, I don't know how things are going to turn out for our little pairing. The ending is up in the air right now.

**Guest**: Thanks so much! I was worried that people would be annoyed that I sent them right back into an argument. This is the first time I've written a couple past their "moment", so this is brand new ground for me.

**son-of-puji:** Maybe I just like writing Jackson too much and I miss his jumbled brain. Thanks for the support. You're my lucky penny.

**Pirate Gyrl:** I'm glad you like it. I see them right now as expressing their feelings more with actions than words. For now. They'll smooth out a little more later. :)

**Words:**

* * *

**Chapter 18: Vow**

Lisa made her way down the aisle, following Jackson. It was hard to miss the amusement in his eyes when he stopped short and gestured toward the window seat. "Can't I have the aisle?" she asked, "I don't want you trapping me again." He chuckled.

"No," he replied. "What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn't protect you from the drink cart?" He grabbed the bag from her hand and placed it next to his in an overhead bin. Lisa raised an eyebrow, but slid into the seat. She grinned to herself, glancing out the window. If their original meeting was less lethal and they were a couple who had been together for a while, this would be coming across like a marriage proposal. Hopefully there wouldn't be any pens or bathroom soap messages this time.

Lisa wasn't sure if they were actually any kind of couple, but she wasn't about to ask for clarification. She would probably get some smart-aleck reply about women obsessing over labeling things or her desire to keep her life in neat little boxes. She was fairly sure that the answer was no. He definitely wasn't her boyfriend, or even someone she could say that she was seeing. The only thing that she knew for sure was that she was surprisingly enjoying not having definite answers and not knowing where she stood with him. It was more exciting this way.

Jackson leaned in close to her. "Looks like people are having doubts," he murmured, and dropped the newspaper that he had grabbed earlier in her lap. Lisa's stomach dropped when she saw her own face smiling back at her. It was a photo of her and her dad on a vacation the year prior. Lisa frowned and turned her attention to the article itself.

It read that she had been spotted on a Greyhound bus to Minnesota, but after the cluster sightings in Miami, it was assumed that it was a false identification. Her family was insisting that Lisa was no criminal, of course, suggesting that the government was pinning the blame on her. Her mother was quoted earlier as being worried about Lisa, knowing that since she couldn't be have criminal ties, she was worried about her daughter's safety on the streets of Miami.

The article cited eyewitnesses from the plane stating that Lisa had seem fearful on the flight, and that her supposed victim was acting suspicious. They reported crying from Lisa and low, threatening tones from "Jim", although no one had heard what he was saying. And of course the logical question- if Lisa was trying to kill Keefe, why would she save him? If "Jim" was really innocent, why did he chase her down himself instead of calling the police?

Lisa couldn't help but be surprised. It seemed there were quite a few people doubting the official story and believing instead that she was innocent. The rebuttal was that if she was innocent, why was she running? She glanced at Jackson and placed her finger under the statement that she had gunned down her own father and the agents. She gave him a questioning look. Why were they saying that _she _shot him? Didn't they test the crime scene?

"You know the government," Jackson explained, sounding casual. "They have their scapegoat, and they're going to make all the evidence point to her no matter what." Lisa nodded and handed the paper back to him. She leaned her head against the window, suddenly somber. Seeing her father's face and reading her mother's words brought it back to the surface what she was putting them through. Her family was probably going through so much- she couldn't even imagine her mother right now. Her mom died less than a month ago, her husband of 32 years was murdered (even though they had divorced, he was still important to her), and her daughter was on the lam...soon to also be dead as far as she knew.

As the plane made its way down the runway, Lisa gripped her armrest. She was trying so hard to stop second-guessing herself, but it was overwhelming her again. Tears formed in her eyes as the landscape began to blur. She hadn't been particularly close to her mother in years, but she still didn't want to cause her pain. The fact that she knew she had no way out wasn't helping- it only made everything worse. She felt despair creeping in again. There was no way to fix this to make it work for everyone.

The feeling of a hand over hers pulled her from her misery. She glanced over and saw Jackson's hand gripping hers. He seemed focused on the newspaper in front of her, but it was a comfort to know that he seemed to understand what she was going through. He had been helping in his own unorthodox way, and she was grateful for that. She tried to imagine what Jackson was like when he wasn't on the job. Was he Tex-Mex Jackson?

The more time Lisa spent with him, the less Tex-Mex Jackson seemed like a real person at all. He was more complex than the dashing man he had presented her with earlier- the charm was probably just a mask. He was probably a loner, like her. It would explain why he figured her out so easily. It made perfect sense, really. She didn't see him having many friends, and he had said he only had Caleb left as family. She couldn't imagine what it was like to have no one.

"What do you do when you're not working?" she asked, assuming the answer could be told around a group of people. She was finding that an added benefit of asking him about himself meant that she could be distracted from her own problems.

Jackson folded his paper and placed it in the pocket in front of him. He ran his hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. "It's fairly dull," he replied. "I usually stay in my apartment and read a lot- keep up with business, politics...trends..." He placed an emphasis on "trends", which Lisa took to mean underground and criminal activity. She wondered how a person would do that, but knew she couldn't ask at the moment. "I work out and go to the range, too."

Lisa smirked. "Sounds very professional. Don't you have hobbies?" Jackson shook his head. "Really?" She elbowed him gently. "You don't watch movies? Build little model ships? Do needlepoint? Arrange flowers?" Jackson continued to shake his head, but he was chuckling.

"I read. Yeah, I watch TV and movies, but mostly older stuff. Not as old as what you watch...mostly seventies movies, like The Godfather." He smirked at her. "Typical guy movies. If I go out, I shoot pool. I clean a lot."

Lisa shrugged. "So you're boring too?"

Jackson stretched, but then winced. "Yep, totally a boring guy." He stood up and reached into his bag, pulling out a pad of paper and pen that he had purchased earlier. Lisa rolled her eyes. He wasn't good at ending conversations. She watched him scribble on the paper, but found that she couldn't read his writing.

"Are you proud of Caleb?" she asked, leaning in closer.

"Yes," he replied shortly, not looking from his paper. Lisa tried again.

"Do you think he made the right choice?" she asked.

Jackson shrugged. "For himself, I suppose," he responded, still distracted. Lisa studied the paper. She saw names that she didn't recognize, and realized that it wasn't the writing that she couldn't read- it was the language.

"He's a little young to be a doctor, isn't he?" she asked, watching him write.

"I guess," Jackson replied. He wasn't writing anymore, but he continued to stare at the paper. "But it's just a clinic. He's better than that, obviously. He could be a top surgeon with more school, but he spends his time with ear infections and ingrown toenails." The bitter in his voice was heavy again. Lisa frowned.

"Why don't you talk to him about it?" she asked. When he didn't respond, she put her hand on his to get his attention. Jackson sighed.

"Because I don't. Stay out of it," he snapped, frustrated. Lisa crossed her arms, staring out the window.

"Why don't you like to talk about him?" she asked, still looking out the window. For a while, Jackson was silent.

"It's complicated," he admitted. "We aren't very close anymore." Lisa shrugged.

"So get close again," she replied flatly. "Why is that so hard?"

Jackson laughed humorlessly. "Right. It's just that simple. Make a phone call and undo five years of problems."

Lisa looked over at him again. "So it will take time. Are you too scared to try?"

He shot her a warning glance. "You don't know what you're talking about," he replied, "Drop it."

"No," Lisa said, shaking her head, "So what if I don't know the details? He's your brother. Fix it." Jackson growled softly.

"_Drop it_," he repeated through clenched teeth.

"_No_," Lisa snapped. "You have a family and you don't care enough to-"

Jackson leaned in until his lips almost grazed her ear. He gripped her forearm tightly. "For the last time, drop it," he warned, cutting her off. Lisa turned and glared right back at him. She wasn't going to let him intimidate her.

"What happened?" she finally asked after a few moments of tense silence. Jackson exhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring.

"I _am_ speaking English, right?" he snapped, squeezing her arm. Lisa twisted out of his grip, wincing slightly at the pain in her shoulder. She sighed.

"Look," she said in exasperation, "I'm not going to stop asking, and you can't really go anywhere, so you might as well talk about it. Or I can sing. Your choice."

Jackson turned away. "Is it occurring to you that I just don't want to talk about it period?" he asked softly. Lisa felt an urge to give in, but she had a gut feeling that she should keep pressing. She doubt that he had ever talked to anyone about it.

"Has it occurred to _you_ that keeping it to yourself isn't helping?" she replied. Jackson leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes.

"It's not something that I can really explain," he finally conceded, "We had a big fight when he told me that he was becoming a doctor and marrying Cheryl. We broke some bones on each other and it hasn't been the same since." Lisa was stunned. Her fight with Jackson in her dad's house had been the only time that she had been angry enough to really attack someone, to do that kind of damage to another person, and her anger was fueled by survival. What was it that made Jackson that angry?

Apparently Jackson could tell that she wasn't satisfied with her answer, because he continued. "He was pretty much all I had for almost eight years at that point, and I was losing him. I guess I panicked, and didn't handle it well." Lisa bit her lip. She thought that she understood why he was so angry then, but why wouldn't he have tried to patch things up by now? Didn't he realize that he hadn't lost Caleb? She got the impression from the younger man that he was still adored his brother and wanted to restore their relationship.

She tilted her head as the answer came to her. "You still feel that way," she stated. "You really think that you've lost him, don't you?" Jackson ran a hand through his hair. His silence confirmed her thoughts. "You haven't. He misses you."

He scoffed. "I don't care," he replied coldly. Lisa raised her eyebrows. She hadn't expected that answer. She watched his hands, marked with faded bruises, fidget with the hem of Caleb's T-shirt.

"I don't believe you," she murmured. "Try looking at it from his perspective. He obviously loves you, so he must have wanted to be a doctor really badly. Would you prefer he was with you still, but miserable with the rest of his life? Doesn't that seem selfish to you?" Jackson avoided eye contact and remained silent. His jaw clenched again. "Maybe his job isn't more important than you. Do you think it was easy to choose his job over you?" Again, silence. Lisa could tell that she was ripping at a raw nerve, but she could only hope that she was getting through to him. "All that's keeping him from being happy with both is _you_. You have to learn to forgive him, and maybe you can rebuild it. Maybe you can be happier, too."

"So you're saying it's my fault?" he finally asked, and Lisa could tell that he was still angry. She sighed, drumming her fingers on her thigh.

"In a way," she replied. "You're the one who took care of him, right?" Jackson nodded slightly and dropped his face into his free hand. She could sense how badly he wanted to end the conversation, so she let it drop. She was sure that she got her thoughts across.

"Why do you do this?" he asked, sliding his palm down to speak through his fingers. Lisa froze, taken aback at both the question and the accusing tone.

"I don't know," she replied, pulling away from him. "I feel like things are helpless for me. I don't like to think about it."

"And I'm a distraction?" he asked, glancing up at her. She shook her head again.

"No, it's not that. You're not helpless." She smiled, turning to face the window again. "And I care about you."

"Why?" she heard him ask, his voice muffled.

"No idea," she replied, laughing softly. "You're not as bad as you think you are," she explained, now serious. She was wondering if Jackson convinced himself that he was a monster because it made things easier for him. She jumped slightly when she felt Jackson's fingers on her jaw. He pulled gently, making her face him.

"What about you?" he asked, his eyes searching hers. It was odd how exposed he could make her feel using only his eyes, as though he could see through to her secrets. Lisa felt a rising urge to pull away.

"W-what about me?" she responded, stammering slightly. She attempted to look away, but Jackson held fast. He said nothing, continuing to pierce her with that gaze. "Do I think I'm a bad person?" She cast her eyes down to the armrest between them. "I don't really know what to think now. I'm not a _good_ person, if that's what you're asking."

"That's not what I'm asking," he replied, leaning closer. Lisa was again aware of his scent invading her space. He didn't smell of cologne, or shampoo. He smelled slightly of sweat, cigarettes, and grime. It was not unpleasant- quite the contrary, it was perfect. He smelled of the last few weeks, of struggle, triumph, adrenaline, and pain.

"I think I might be," she replied honestly, "but I don't know any way to come out on top as a good person." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Everyone is going to be hurt, and I don't think it can be avoided. But I don't know how to stop thinking about it."

Jackson smiled sadly. "Defenses," he replied in an equally quiet voice. "It can't be avoided. This is not one of those things that if you think about long enough, the solution will come to you. Keep distracting yourself. Don't look back."

Lisa's heart sank. "Like you?" she asked. She was not accusing this time. She hated to admit it, but she could hear the truth in what he was saying.

He nodded, running his fingers along her jawline. "If you can't live with it, then die by it," he whispered. It was cryptic, but Lisa thought that she understood. He giving her an ultimatum, but it was meant for her to give herself. She had been going back and forth in her brain about everything that had happened- her dad, her family, Keefe, and Jackson. The only way to stay sane was to choose her path and commit to it one hundred percent. There just wasn't room for self-doubt anymore. It wasn't the first time she had told herself this, but it was time to mean it. It was time to man up, as it were.

It was now very clear to Lisa. She had been very demanding to Jackson during the entire trip. She could see in his eyes just how exhausted he was, and she doubted that it was due to a lack of sleep. Meanwhile, she had mostly skated by, her decisions attached with a protest of 'but I have no choice' to ease her guilt. It was Jackson's turn to ask of her, to tear her yet again from her comfort zone. She had tried to make it clear that she was there to support him, and it was because of her support for him that she had been daring him to put himself out there. She could see that he was doing the same. He was asking her to join him in the uncertainty. He was making her his equal, and behind his words she could hear him telling her that he had her back just as she had his.

Lisa saw that Jackson was still watching her, reading her. She simply nodded and pressed her lips firmly to his. As she brought her fingers up to tangle in his hair, she knew that they had reached a silent agreement to see what they had started through to the end. It wouldn't be easy, but neither of them were going to look back. They were also both asking the other to support them, to make sure that they didn't go back on their unspoken words.

Lisa pulled away and sank into her seat, staring straight ahead. She was under no illusion that Jackson was going to spring open in a cascade of honesty and openness. Likewise, she was going to have her doubts. But they were going to just keep fighting, both the world and each other.

The air between them had changed, and ironically it was in a place where they were incredibly constricted in which words they chose. This was no red eye flight- the fellow passengers were mostly wide awake and anything other than vague references to their situation were dangerous. She had no idea how Jackson got the courage to say the things he had during the first flight. Assuming people were too tired or self-absorbed to listen was a pretty big leap of faith.

She repeated Jackson's words in her head. _'If you can't live with it, then die by it.' _She wondered if he was speaking more to her problems or his own fate. She couldn't get over that conversation earlier when he said that he didn't really exist anymore. It seemed to her that he had in essence killed himself years ago, unable to handle what he had done to his family and what had been done to him. She glanced at him. He was back to writing on his pad, lost in his own world again. She felt as though she was understanding him more and more with each conversation, and that the more layers that were peeled away, the more drawn in she was by him.

Lisa leaned over and quickly kissed Jackson's cheek. This caught his attention, and he turned slightly to look at her, amused. "Yes?" he asked, his eyebrow raised.

She shrugged. "When did you learn French?" she asked, motioning to the notepad. He glanced down.

"High school," he replied. "And I get a lot of practice with Marie. She's a happier person when she can speak French to people." It had never been lost on Lisa how his tone changed when he mentioned the woman she had met earlier. He seemed to regard her quite highly.

"What's her story?" she asked casually, crossing her legs. Jackson let out a small laugh and shook his head.

"It's a very long one," he replied. "Ask me later."

Lisa nodded. "I took Spanish in high school," she told him. "It made sense, living in Florida and visiting my grandmother in Texas all the time. I wanted to learn French, though."

"But it wasn't practical," Jackson finished. "Sounds about right."

Lisa tilted her head, smiling slightly. "Yeah, it does. Maybe you can teach me sometime." Jackson shrugged.

"Maybe," he replied, sounding fairly dismissive. Looking at Jackson's pad made Lisa realize that they hadn't talked much about lighter subjects. She checked her watch. They had an hour and a half left of the flight. Might as well kill some time.

"What's your favorite season?" she asked, watching him. Jackson chuckled.

"Is your sea breeze finally kicking in?" he asked, amused. Lisa nudged him.

"Oh come on. I want to know," she prodded.

He glanced at the ceiling, thinking. "Winter," he replied. "Real winter, though. Not this southern bullshit."

Lisa giggled. "Yeah, people can lose their minds when they see a snowflake here. I like the summer best- I love thunderstorms. Don't like hurricanes, though."

Jackson nodded and stared straight ahead again. Lisa rolled her eyes playfully. "You're bad at small talk," she stated, smiling at him.

"_That's _what this is about?" he asked. "I happen to be an expert at it." He grinned, and leaned in close to her ear. "But it's usually before I get information out of someone or have them killed," he taunted. "And _you're_ the one who is horrible at it. You don't just fire out random questions like an internet survey."

Lisa crossed her arms. "That's how I do it. I think it's fun," she insisted.

Jackson raised his eyebrow. "How is it fun?" he asked, skeptical. She shrugged.

"They're not boring questions like asking about a person's job or family," she replied, grinning at him.

"Oh, I'm wounded," Jackson mocked, grabbing at his heart. "If I recall correctly, and I do, _you_ brought up your job and your family." Lisa furrowed her eyebrows. He had her there. "And besides, I would have thought that you'd like the boring, safe questions."

"Now you're just being mean," Lisa complained playfully.

Jackson shook his head. "Never," he replied, his face completely serious. Lisa laughed again. Yeah, Jackson was like taking a kitten on a picnic.

The two fell silent again, until Lisa spoke up. "Do you like cake with or without ice cream?" she asked. Jackson tossed the pad into the seat pouch with the newspaper.

"Are we really going to do this?" he asked with exaggerated irritation. "Can't you just stop talking and relax?"

Lisa shook her head, grinning at him. "If you stop struggling, it will be so much easier."

Jackson glanced up at the overhead bin, where his sedatives sat in his bag. "Too much work," he muttered to himself, and rolled his head to glance at her. "Alright, game on."

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**Hope you guys liked it. I ****_promise_**** that chapter 19 will be in Miami! Cross my heart!**

**Cillian Murphy is fluent in French. I love this.**

**Oh, and tomorrow is my birthday. Do you know what I want? Reviews. Please don't make it a sad birthday for poor little Orlha. :D**


	19. Come Together

**Thanks to all my reviewers for the birthday wishes! It made my day much better- otherwise, it pretty much sucked, although there was a "you can't make this up" moment during a game of movie trivial pursuit. I KID YOU NOT, the final question to win the game was 'What accident occurred on the set of Red Eye?', the answer of course being "Rachel McAdams was knocked unconscious while filming'. Won the game, obviously. :D Actually, there were quite a few Cillian Murphy movie questions- a few on Sunshine, one on Inception, and one on 28 Days Later. No wonder I won. :P**

**trudes193-** Lisa is definitely making progress through Jackson's walls. It just remains to be seen where she will end up.

**Guest-** There are not enough "aws" to express my reaction to being called "lovebug". I'm glad you enjoy my story so much. Honestly, you readers are the main inspiration to keep at this story. :)

**Clavis Salomonis-** It totally makes sense, and thanks for saying so! Dialogue is my weak point, in my opinion, so it's always great to hear that it sounds realistic (and entertaining) to someone who isn't in my head. :D The last few chapters of mirroring their original meeting have been a blast and a half to write.

**KnoKnayme-** I KNOW, RIGHT? I just want ONE clip. An interview would suffice, but noooooo, he keeps it to himself (and probably his wife). Lisa_ is_ a trooper- that's what makes her so much fun to write. They bring out the best in each other.

**Pirate Gyrl-** I wrote the first paragraph of this chapter with you in mind. I was going to do a small recap-ish type thing, but I elaborated a little more for you.

**She Who Shines-** I love that you notice the little things. It's my favorite thing about you- a woman after my own heart (you have it, by the way). And yes, Lisa completely beats him in his own game. Looks like he's going to have to rethink his strategy now. :D

**son-of-puji**- Thanks for the support as well as being there to discuss ideas that are not talked about openly among nice people. :D I love you. That is all.

**Astrianne-** Thanks! You know how to make a girl blush.

**Jesscah**- You LIVE! JOY! You also notice the small things, and you're definitely one of the reasons that I go over my chapters a few times to polish the little details. I won't lie- the winter line came from a response that I gave to my cousin in Florida once. So I guess I stole it from myself.

**ZOMGMIAMI:**

* * *

**Chapter 19: Come Together**

Lisa and Jackson made their way through the airport. The remainder of their flight had been fairly uneventful. Lisa had learned that Jackson didn't like birds and that he thought driving a convertible made a person "look like an asshole", as well as other things. His enthusiasm for his dislike of birds led Lisa to accuse him of being afraid of them. He had threatened to stick a spider in her shoe in response, and she dropped it. Near the end of the flight, she had grabbed his pen as a joke, but he had taken it right back, pretending to be unamused.

Lisa kept her head down, her hat and glasses in place. Even though people were looking for a blonde, she didn't feel safe in Miami. Jackson took her hand in his for support, turning on his phone with the other. She pressed her shoulder to his, walking as closely as she could without making them into Siamese twins.

"Jeff's picking us up," Jackson told her, checking a text on his phone. Lisa nodded.

"Who is he?" she asked, gripping her bag tightly.

"A courier," he replied. "He picks up packages and drives us around. He's very good at doing what he's told. He's the one who got me from your house and me and Caleb to Minnesota."

Lisa glanced up at him. "Is he safe? How do you know that he isn't with Robert?"

"Because I do," Jackson replied flatly. "There isn't a big conspiracy here." He lifted his phone to his ear, checking his voicemail. Lisa continued to watch the floor, trying to keep her face hidden without looking suspicious. She felt Jackson's hand tighten, and looked up again to see his jaw clenched. He obviously didn't like what he was hearing.

"What's wrong?" she asked. Jackson shook his head and moved onto the next message. The two walked past baggage claim, as they had only their carry-ons.

Jackson shut his phone and put it back in his pocket. "Change of plans. I'll explain later," he said, and pulled her to a stop. "Another thing-" He glanced down at the floor, looking a little uncomfortable. "Do me a favor and don't..." he ran a hand through his hair, "...don't let on to Caleb that there's anything going on between us." Lisa frowned. She didn't understand. "He's going through a lot right now..."

Lisa's eyes widened, and she nodded. Jackson was probably right. Any affection was probably one of the last things that Caleb wanted to see.

The pair left the airport, and Jackson led Lisa to a waiting vehicle. He opened the back door for her, tossing his bag in the empty seat next to her. He slid into the passenger seat and greeted Jeff. Lisa slid on a pair of sunglasses and slumped in her seat as Jeff pulled away from the airport.

"The gun will be at Florida Armory tomorrow," Jeff explained to Jackson. "Cal and Cheryl are at my house- he decided not to go to a hotel." When Jackson eyed him, he elaborated. "He told me their real names...he's kind of a mess, man. He decided that a hotel was more trouble than it was worth in case Cheryl put up a fight, plus getting her through the lobby when she was like that- he has her heavily sedated."

Lisa eyed Jeff. He definitely seemed to be all-business. Perfect for Jackson.

"Ben left me a message," Jackson replied. "Apparently he decided to run his own scheme. I know," he added when Jeff glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. "He told Robert's crew that I'm on my way to kill him." Lisa sat straight up at this, but Jackson continued before she could say anything. "He said that he was testing their loyalties, to see who would go tell Robert. Looks like we have two still on our side and two with Robert."

"Sounds like Robert's rounding up his whole team," Jeff remarked.

Jackson nodded and rubbed his eyes. "Yeah. But this way we can take care of all of them at once." Lisa furrowed her eyebrows.

"Are you sure that you can trust him?" she spoke up from the backseat. Jackson turned and gave her a warning look. Jeff glanced back, amused surprise on his face.

"_Yes_," he repeated. Lisa bit her lip. She didn't see how Jackson could be so trusting of these people. She had a nagging feeling that they were walking right into a trap.

"Won't that show Robert that he's working with you, though?" Jeff asked, interrupting their stare-down. Jackson turned his attention back onto his courier.

"He said he told Robert that he was tricking me into giving information so they could be prepared," he explained. Red flags were popping up all over Lisa's head. Obviously, this Ben was either playing Robert or Jackson. How could he be so sure that he wasn't being betrayed? "He said Robert will be at King of Diamonds tonight, and they'll be with him."

Lisa raised her eyebrows. "He's hiding in a strip club?" she asked, incredulous. That wouldn't have been her first choice.

"Gentleman's club," Jackson corrected her, grinning.

"They have high security," Jeff added, pulling off the freeway. "Metal detectors, pat downs...and it's a very busy place." Jackson shrugged.

"So we'll get him out of there," he stated, leaning back in his seat. "Heavy security means that they won't tolerate fighting." Jeff nodded.

"You taking Cal?" he asked. Lisa looked out the window. She was pretty sure that they were in Overtown. She hadn't been there, but of course she had heard stories about how dangerous it was. Did Jeff live there?

"Probably not," Jackson replied, "Right now we're three on three."

Lisa frowned. Didn't he mean four on three? Himself, Robert's two men, and Jeff? Or didn't Jeff actually do any killing?

Jeff shrugged. "Might be a good idea in case something goes wrong. You could definitely use him."

Jackson laughed bitterly. "Oh, he's out of the game," he replied, turning to look out the window. "He won't kill anyone."

"Well, he seems to think that he's going," Jeff informed him.

"It might actually be beneficial to stay here," Jackson said, not acknowledging what Jeff had told him. "Even if someone recognizes Lisa here, it's not like anyone is going to call the cops."

Jeff nodded. "Not a lot of room though," he replied, pulling into a pothole-ridden driveway. Lisa sank down in her seat. She couldn't believe that they were staying there. Jeff glanced back and scoffed, but said nothing. He exited the car as Jackson reached back for his bag.

"I don't want to stay here," Lisa said quietly. "It's dangerous." She didn't want to be difficult, but she was incredibly uncomfortable.

Jackson sighed. "It's fine," he replied, straining to grab his bag. "Just relax." Lisa scowled. She hated that he dismissed her so easily sometimes. She grabbed both bags and quickly got out of the car, walking after Jeff. Jackson grabbed her arm.

"What?" he asked, confused. Lisa yanked away her arm.

"Oh, you don't know?" she asked with sarcastic surprise. "I thought you knew everything! My opinion is irrelevant, right?" Jackson groaned.

"It's not like that and you know it," he replied, taking his bag.

Lisa shook her head sadly. "No I don't. Weren't you the one who said that I know nothing about this stuff? That I should just listen to you?" She flung her bag on her shoulder, staring at her feet.

Jackson ran a hand through his hair. "I never told you not to have an opinion," he replied, and lifted her chin.

Lisa pulled away. "Just to keep it to myself," she replied bitterly. She nudged him. "Just go. Caleb's waiting. We can talk later." Jackson stared at her for another moment, but then turned and headed for the front door. "I'll just sit in the corner and keep my mouth shut," she muttered, following him.

Jackson could tell how upset Lisa was, but he didn't know what he could do about it. He had meant what he had said earlier, but he still felt guilty for ignoring her feelings. She had obviously been raised upper middle class, and so many people in those circles had exaggerated ideas about the lower classes and criminals. He was aware that Overtown had a higher crime rate than she was used to, but he also knew that it didn't mean that they were actually in danger. She was just going to have to deal with it.

His thoughts were interrupted when he walked into the house and saw Caleb sitting on the floor of the living room, leaning on the couch. He felt an urge to hug the younger man, but instead tossed the bag onto the couch and took a seat next to it. He nudged Caleb with his foot, giving him a small smile. Caleb looked over his shoulder at him, giving a weak smile of his own.

Jackson wasn't sure what to say. He wanted to talk, but Lisa was sitting in a chair nearby and he could hear Jeff moving around in the other room. They were hardly alone. He glanced at Cheryl, whose sedative had apparently mostly worn off. It was jarring to see her in the chair, bound like a hostage. His initial sympathy instantly vanished when he remembered what she had done. He didn't have to look at Lisa- he could feel her dark stare on him. She was probably thinking that he should be offering Caleb some kind of comfort.

"What's the story?" he finally asked. Caleb shrugged.

"She's not talking," he replied. "Said she'll only talk to you." Jackson groaned, dropping back against the cushion. _What kind of game is this?_ He looked down in front of Caleb, studying the array of handguns and bullets.

"We'll deal with her later. What are you doing?" he asked, leaning down to get a better look.

"I'm getting ready," Caleb responded, and rose to his feet. "Take off your shirt," he ordered, walking to get one of his bags. Jackson hesitantly obeyed. He hadn't seen Caleb like this in years. He was closed off, short, just like he was when they first started working. He sat up straight as Caleb knelt in front of him.

"Christ," Caleb murmured, removing the bandage over Jackson's lung. "Have you been cleaning this _at all_?" Jackson glanced down at his wound. He had known that it was infected, as well as the one near his stomach, but he hadn't been able to fix it. He said nothing, knowing that Caleb's question was rhetorical.

"What's wrong?" Lisa asked quietly from her chair.

"Infection," Caleb replied, filling a syringe as Jeff walked back into the room. He set two beers next to the twins and handed Lisa another, dropping onto the floor near the couch. Jackson continued to avoid eye contact with Lisa, instead staring at his brother. Caleb wiped the wounds, and glanced at Jackson. He smiled reassuringly.

"It's not that bad yet," he conceded, "I just want to be safe. If it gets worse, at the very least, they'll have to be drained." He gave Jackson an injection of antibiotics. "Not to mention that if it gets infected under the sutures, I might not be able to tell which bacteria it is and how to take care of it."

Jeff leaned over to see more clearly. "Looks a lot better than it did," he remarked, taking a drink. "Remember when that one opened?" He motioned to Jackson's stomach and made a face. "That was pretty bad." Jackson rolled his eyes, and Caleb scoffed.

"Totally forgot about that," Caleb grinned. "Stitching people up in a moving vehicle on the freeway is getting boring," he said in an affected tone. Jackson glanced at Lisa, who was taking a large drink from her bottle.

"It wasn't that bad," he reminded Caleb, although he was speaking for Lisa's benefit. "It's not like the whole thing came open...just a small skin tear."

"Oh right," Caleb replied, re-bandaging the wounds. Jackson narrowed his eyes. Caleb was too cheerful now- it was obviously forced. When Caleb applied the last of the tape, Jackson held tight to his wrist.

"Let's go talk," he said quietly. Caleb broke eye contact, his smile fading.

"Do we have to?" he murmured, setting the syringe aside. Jackson pulled his shirt back on.

"Yes," he said, and glanced at Jeff. The other man nodded toward the door.

"You can use my room or go outside. Whatever," he said, getting to his feet. "I have to pick up some things."

Jackson stood, hooking a hand under Caleb's arm and pulling him to his feet. "Keep an eye on Cheryl," he said to Lisa. She nodded, and Jackson would have had to be blind to miss the frustrated expression on her face. She would have to wait, though. He escorted his younger brother out of the house and dropped onto the front steps. He lit two cigarettes and passed one to Caleb. They sat in heavy silence. Jackson studied his brother, who had taken a seat on the lower step. Caleb spread and clenched the fingers in his free hand, occasionally flicking at the air. Jackson saw the tension in his shoulders and his hunched posture.

"You look about ready to explode," Jackson remarked, staring at his brother. Caleb stared at his feet and leaned back on his elbow.

"I was thinking," he said, eying Jackson. "Do you remember Doug ever being around before Dad died?" Jackson frowned, confused.

"What does that have to do with anything?" he asked.

"I said I was thinking," Caleb replied, irritated. "Do you? I don't remember Mom even talking about him." Jackson rested his elbows on his knees. Their family had never gone anywhere for holidays. His grandfather on his father's side had died in Korea when his father was only a year old, and his grandmother had a heart attack when Jackson and Caleb were seven. He had no siblings. He couldn't remember their mother ever talking about any of her family except her parents, who had died in a car accident before the twins were born.

"I guess not," Jackson conceded, "So? She said he was her brother." He still had no idea why Caleb was bringing this up.

Caleb scoffed. "Yeah, a brother who lived a few towns away that she never mentioned and we never met until he was there to take us in. Sounds legit."

Jackson rolled his neck. "What's your point? Maybe they didn't get along, but there wasn't any other option."

Caleb kicked a rock off the steps. "My point is that it's weird," he replied defensively.

"But not important," Jackson countered, nudging his brother with his foot. "Is that really all that's on your mind?"

Caleb shifted away from Jackson. "What do you think would happen if we went to see her?" he asked, staring down the street.

Jackson sighed. "Well, _we_ won't. I don't know what would happen if _you_ did. Maybe she'd talk to you, and maybe she would kick you out." Caleb turned toward him, frowning.

"Don't you ever think about her?" he asked. "Don't you miss her?"

Jackson took a long drag from his cigarette, wincing slightly. "You know how I feel about her," he reminded him. "I have less of an interest in seeing her than she does in seeing me." Caleb opened his mouth to reply, but Jackson cut him off. "I mean it," he snapped. "And we're also not going to say another word about her, Doug, Dad, your first car, or anything other than _you- _you right here, right now_._"

Caleb turned back around. "It doesn't matter," he muttered, slouching forward again.

"What's _wrong_ with you?" Jackson snapped. His patience had finally run out. He was sore, running on a few hours of sleep for the past two days, Lisa had been provoking him in a slow descent into insanity, his stomach was so empty that it hurt, and he still had a murder to plan.

"It doesn't matter," Caleb repeated through clenched teeth. His feet were rocking on the cement step.

"Why are you doing this?" Jackson asked. He couldn't deny that he was hurt and a little offended. Caleb was treating him like a stranger. "Since when are you the quiet one?"

"What good does talking about it do me?" Caleb muttered, crushing his cigarette under his shoe. "Why don't you just say it?" He turned to face Jackson again, anger clouding his face. "I told you so, right?"

Jackson did a double-take. "You think I'm _smug_ about this? Are you insane?" Of all the ways he imagined their conversation going, this didn't even make the list.

Caleb lit another cigarette. "Hell, this will probably work out just fine," he said, seemingly ignoring Jackson. "You're the one she wants anyway." Jackson jumped to his feet and started pacing in front of his brother.

"You've seriously lost your fucking mind," he snapped. "'This will probably work out fine'? What does that even mean? _If _I'm the one Cheryl wants, which I don't even know why you would think that, what difference does it make? She's a dead woman." He shook his head. "And why in the hell would you think that I'd gloat over this?"

"Oh please," Caleb replied, miserable. "She was always flirting with you. I was her second choice."

Jackson tossed his cigarette to the ground. "Stop trying to rationalize what she did." He ran a hand through his hair. "And she was not flir- not that it matters!" he interrupted himself when he Caleb started to argue. "_Why would I gloat?_"

"Because you never wanted me to marry her," Caleb replied, dropping his face into his hands. Jackson grabbed the cigarette from his fingers before he could burn his hair.

"Because I was _jealous_, not because I didn't trust her!" Jackson yelled, completely losing his composure. "And not jealous of _you_, jealous of _her_ because she was more important to you than I was! Christ, I've been driving myself crazy worrying about you on the way here, and you sit there and accuse me of being _smug_ about it!" Jackson quickly turned away and walked away from his brother, who was sitting on the steps in stunned silence. He leaned against the garage door, running a hand through his hair roughly and down the back of his neck, trying to calm himself.

He pulled away when he heard Caleb approach him. "Fuck you," Jackson muttered, releasing his neck and sliding across the garage door.

"I didn't know you felt that way," Caleb murmured, moving closer to stand next to him.

Jackson scoffed. "You called it, remember?" he asked, referring to the fight in their apartment.

Caleb shook his head. "I just thought you were angry because I was leaving and wasn't doing what you wanted...I'm sorry." Jackson grimaced. What in the hell was wrong with him? Caleb was the one whose life was falling apart, and Jackson had somehow twisted the conversation into his own problems and was now receiving an apology?

"I mean it," Caleb continued. "I wasn't thinking, it was-"

"Stop," Jackson interrupted. He wasn't hurt that Caleb had misunderstood. He just felt guilty that they were talking about it when there were more important things going on. He regretted going off and sharing more than he had intended. "I shut out everyone else the last few years, why not you, too?" he remarked bitterly. He took a drag and passed the cigarette back to Caleb. "I'm sorry too, for what it's worth." He draped his arm over Caleb's shoulders, and the two stood in silence.

"I'm not that hurt," Caleb confessed after a few moments. "I don't understand it. My wife wants me dead, and I was more surprised and angry than hurt."

Jackson looked at him. "I don't know. You said things weren't going well for you. Maybe in some way you knew something was wrong." He yawned. "Maybe it just hasn't hit you yet."

"You think I'm avoiding it?" Caleb asked, stubbing out the cigarette. Jackson nodded. He recognized the symptoms- constant twitching, changing the subject, irritability, and lashing out when pressed. Caleb just wasn't as good at burying problems as Jackson was. "You're probably right," Caleb admitted. He nudged the ground with his foot. "I _was_ her second choice, though. Why else would she be doing this and then refusing to talk to anyone but you?"

Jackson shrugged. "I don't know, but it doesn't matter. If she does have feelings for me, it's not mutual. Never has been." He doubted that Cheryl had any feelings for him. They had only spoken a few times a year since the wedding, and she had been with Caleb almost since the two met. Caleb was just imagining things. Jackson shifted his weight. He wished that they had brought those beers out with them.

"Why do you think that you were thinking about Mom?" he asked, breaking the silence. He still couldn't get over how weird that conversation was. After ten years, why did it suddenly come up? _Lisa would probably know_. He half-smiled, thinking about the new psychologist extraordinaire and her ability to come up with some theory to explain anything that she saw. His smile faded when he remembered that she currently upset with him, and the more time he took to talk to her, the more upset she was probably getting.

Jackson was surprised to find that a part of him wanted to share his new relationship with Lisa. Caleb had predicted that it would happen when they were back at his home, but he probably never expected the changes that Jackson had been going through in the last few days. He kept his mouth shut, though, knowing it was better that way for the time being.

He glanced at Caleb, who was still silent. He led his brother back to the staircase, where they sat again. "I was thinking about the beginning, when I met Cheryl," Caleb finally replied. "I guess I started thinking backwards, about joining the agency, and Doug." He smiled grimly. "I always hated that man," he recalled.

Jackson nodded, remembering how miserable Caleb was when they moved in with their uncle. Doug had no tolerance for Caleb's sensitivity, and made the his life hell as a teenager. When Jackson was around, Doug could only get one hit in before the older brother would step in with a few hits of his own. Doug never got mad at Jackson, though. He blamed Caleb for needing to be defended. Jackson always knew that Caleb was plenty capable of standing up for himself, but he had never been able to suppress the urge to step in. He had never understood how Doug thought it was okay to treat Caleb like that, considering the circumstances that led to the two boys living with him.

"He did help you with your shooting though," he offered. Caleb shrugged. Jackson thought about lighting another cigarette- he was still too on-edge. His throat and lungs were already burning, though, so he decided not to. "He got what was coming to him." Jackson still remembered vividly the night he got the call from Marie, who was told by the director at the time that Doug had failed in his mission and was killed in the process. It was his first real lesson in the potential dangers of failure. Only the target knew where the body was dumped. Doug was just alive one day and gone the next. There was no record of him, and so no funeral, no arrangements, nothing.

Caleb nodded. "Do you really hate Mom?" he asked quietly. Jackson remained silent. He honestly wasn't sure if he did or not, but he knew that he didn't want to see her. "Well, _I_ miss her sometimes," he added, rubbing his temples.

Jackson sighed in exhaustion, but he wasn't sure if it was more mental or physical. "Let's talk about this later," he offered, feeling as though that was becoming his new slogan. He felt as though he was in a sliding puzzle, and the image was far from completion. "I should get things over with with Cheryl. You go check on Lisa. I think she's fine, but you would know better." Caleb agreed, and the two stood to go back in the house.

Jackson grabbed Caleb's arm, stopping him in his tracks. "If you need to talk more, you know you can, right?" he asked hesitantly. Caleb stared at him, his blue eyes still troubled. Jackson tightened his grip. "I mean it," he insisted. "I don't want you to be afraid to talk to me." _Anymore_, he added silently. Caleb nodded and pulled Jackson into a tight hug. Jackson fought back a wince at the sharply increased pain as he wrapped his arms around his brother. It was worth it.

Eventually, the brothers parted and walked into the house. Jackson stood in the doorway, watching Caleb lead Lisa down the hallway and into Jeff's room. He looked away quickly when Lisa shot him another frustrated glance. Instead, he eyed Cheryl, who stared right back at him. It was time for the conversation that he had both been looking forward to and dreading all day.

* * *

**So, July 21st will be the two year anniversary of this story. I was thinking that it's time to go back to chapter 1-4 (before the dumb hiatus) and revise them so they will suck less. As a result, I might not be posting chapter 20 as quickly as the last three have come. But on the other hand, when chapter 20 DOES get posted...there will be blood (maybe, depending on how long Cheryl and Jackson talk).**

**R&R, s'il vous plaît. If you guys don't want 1-4 to be revised, then I'll start on 20 instead. Let me know!**


	20. Save Me From Myself

**Sorry for the delay- more writer's block. FML. Hopefully this chapter was worth the wait- it's quite intense. A lot of the reviewers said that they were happy to learn more about Caleb and Jackson's past. I love writing it, but I've been a little hesitant to keep going there since I worry that people would rather I stick to the present. Thanks for all the support, and from now on, I won't be as nervous about writing it. **

**Jesscah- ** I was going to draw out their strain for a little while longer, but as I wrote it, it just worked for Jackson to snap. I'm glad it came across as believable!

**trudes193- **Our favorite manager is growing up, isn't he?

**Guest(1)-** Ask and you shall receive (weeks later).

**son-of-puji- **Your review made me grin like a madwoman. And just for you, I postponed editing the beginning. I'm still going to get to that someday, though.

**Pirate Gyrl-** Congrats- you hit the nail right on the head. Caleb will be very supportive of the relationship (spoiler alert- for the most part).

**Guest(2)- **I know this review was for chapter 7, but I still loved it. I'm getting so many suggestions for more Cillian movies based on one comment about jeans. LOVE. Hope you made it through to 19, and you're still with me. :)

**Clavis Salomonis- **Someday, I will make a Cillian Murphy Trivial Pursuit game, and we can have a group play over Skype or something. Thanks so much for the support- I know it sounds repetitive, but the more I develop Jackson (and he starts to grow from how he was on the red eye), I get more and more nervous that I'm destroying his character. And as an aside, I get nervous every time I have to type your name for a review. I'm scared I'll misspell it! :D

**A few notes about chapter 20: I wrote the Jackson/Cheryl conversation and the Lisa/Caleb conversation as separate parts, but they are actually happening simultaneously. Also, this chapter is going to get somewhat explicit.**

**DRAMA:**

* * *

**Chapter 20: Save Me From Myself**

Jackson dropped onto the couch, facing Cheryl. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. He clenched his jaw tightly, praying that he managed to appear neutral. In reality, his heart was pounding. He had never had to deal with anything like this before. He honestly had no idea how he was supposed to handle it. He thought that Marie would probably have the person tortured to reveal their motive and then killed, or just killed, no questions asked. But physical torture wasn't his style, and he couldn't just kill Cheryl without knowing _why._

"I hear that you have something to tell me," he said coldly, grateful that his voice remained steady. It took most of his self-control to not fidget in anxiety as he stared her down. Maybe Marie was right. Maybe he was going soft. _You're a fucking manager- __**manage.**_

"Maybe," Cheryl replied, just as coldly. Her blue eyes were narrowed, as though she was studying him just as hard as he was her. Jackson fingers curled into fists. He hardly recognized this woman in front of him. She was like a coiled snake, waiting for the opportune time to strike. She tried to act tough, but he could see the fear in her eyes.

The two continued to stare at each other, waiting for the other to back down. Jackson was afraid to speak to her. He felt the hurt, the betrayal reaching critical mass in his chest and knew that if he opened his mouth again, there was a good chance that he would not be able to stay in control. He refused to lose his composure in front of her like he had with Lisa and Caleb.

He knew that she was trying to provoke him with her response, and by not acknowledging that she said it, he was maintaining power. Cheryl had information that he wanted, which could easily give her control of the situation, but by pretending that he wasn't all that interested in what she had to say, he could successfully stay on top.

Cheryl remained defiant, and Jackson decided to switch tactics. He grabbed one of the beer bottles that Jeff had left earlier. He went to reach for his lighter to remove the cap, but suddenly had a better idea. He bent down and picked up one of Caleb's Gold Cup Trophies, checking to make sure that it was unloaded. He pulled back the slide and wedged the cap in the gap. Keeping his eyes on Cheryl, he popped off the cap, noticing with barely-concealed satisfaction the hesitation in her eyes.

Jackson reclined against the couch and took a drink of beer. Cheryl's eyes narrowed again. "You won't shoot me," she stated, but her voice wavered slightly. Jackson shrugged halfheartedly.

"Probably not," he conceded, using the trigger guard to rock the Colt back and forth lazily on his finger. "Does that make you feel better?" Cheryl remained silent. "Maybe I just like how these look. They're real beauties, you know. All-steel. A man's gun. But guns can be so noisy sometimes...it's a real nuisance in a neighborhood." He dropped the gun onto the carpet and reached for a Benchmade that Caleb had brought. "These babies, on the other hand," he said, setting the beer aside and rising to his feet, "they're silent. And very useful in the sense that it's easier to not kill someone." He removed the Benchmade from its sheath and ran the steel tip across Cheryl's cheek, barely brushing her skin. The woman was completely still, her eyes fixed on him. Physical torture might not be Jackson's style, but he could inflict psychological pain without a problem.

"What do you think?" he asked, raising the blade to slide his finger along the edge. "Isn't it gorgeous? These are my favorites." He glanced back down at Cheryl. She was looking at him with the same hesitation, and what looked like excitement- almost arousal.

"Do you really not understand why?" she asked, giving him a hint of a smirk. "You're not stupid, Jackson. You know exactly why I'm doing this." Jackson furrowed his eyebrows.

"Jog my memory," he replied, crouching in front of the woman he had once called his teammate and long ago, his friend.

"You know why," Cheryl repeated, emphasizing every word. Jackson sighed and rose to his feet.

"And _you_ know that when people don't cooperate, I tend to get annoyed," he reminded her, moving behind her. Cheryl twisted her neck to look at him. "But I think I have a solution." He ran his fingers through her hair and along her jaw, intentionally invading her space and devaluing her position. He bent down, pressing his lips to the ear that was turned away from him. He rested his arm on her opposite shoulder, letting the knife dangle in front of her face. "You are in way over your head right now. You will _not_ win with your cute little games, and you are horrible at being coy." He stroked her hair again. "So tell me what I want to know, and I won't get annoyed."

Cheryl turned to face him, their faces fractions of an inch apart. "Where would be the fun in that?" she asked, a seductive smile on her lips. Jackson raised an eyebrow.

"You're getting off on this," he stated, pulling away slightly. She really did seem to think that this was some kind of game.

"And so are you," Cheryl replied, a knowing smile on her face. Jackson sighed and stood upright again. It wasn't the end of the world. He had been in scenarios similar to this before, and knew that it was a simple matter of changing tactics again. She was enjoying his attention, so he decided to head in the opposite direction.

He flopped down on the couch again, tossing the knife aside. He took another drink of beer and checked his phone. "You're insane, you know that?" he remarked, noting that he had another message from Ben.

"You would know," came the reply. Jackson ignored her, lifting the phone to his ear. He lit a cigarette, listening to the message. Robert was going to be alone in the club, his men watching from afar. He was trying to set a trap for Jackson. As far as Robert was concerned, it was going to be only Jackson coming for him. Jackson hung up his phone, satisfied. He intentionally focused his gaze to the right of Cheryl as he reflected on his plan for the evening.

Sure enough, it wasn't long before Cheryl spoke again. "Was that Ben?" she asked, trying to get his attention again. "Is he your hookup?" Jackson gave a non-committal grunt in response, still deep in thought. It would be easy enough to lure Robert out of the club, but they couldn't very well attack him in the parking lot- the security was too heavy.

"Are you sure you can trust him?" she needled. "You guys hate each other."

"I know," Jackson replied. He was well aware of their history, but Ben was also honest and used to be one of Caleb's best friends. He was the only one Jackson could have trusted enough in Robert's team.

"It was a choice between him and you, and I chose you." Her statement pulled Jackson from his thoughts, but he managed to look vaguely interested. He glanced at Cheryl, waiting to see if she would continue. Finally, he decided to make a move.

"You say I already know the answer, but I just can't figure out what would lead a woman to offer up her husband in the place of her brother-in-law," he remarked, taking another drink. "Any thoughts?" She didn't reply, and Jackson realized that Caleb may have been correct.

"Did you ever love him?" he asked, ashing his cigarette into the half-empty bottle that Jeff had left behind. He rolled his neck and inhaled deeply, trying to keep himself calm as he waited for the answer.

"Of course I did," she responded coolly, "Things change." She looked up at him. "People change." Jackson flexed his jaw, balling his free hand into a fist. He tried to take himself out of the scene, watch it as a disinterested third party.

"So, you stopped loving him when he left the agency," he stated flatly. It wasn't a question. It made sense in a twisted way. He had to admit that he understood to a degree. "And when you knew Robert wanted me dead, you figured you would give up Caleb because he isn't a loss, right?" He rolled his neck again. "And apparently I am."

Cheryl scoffed. "Of course you would be," she said, staring up at him.

Jackson dropped his chin into he free hand. He knew he should keep his mouth shut, but Caleb's earlier comment kept nagging at him. "Was he your second choice?" he blurted, and then clenched his jaw. "Don't answer that." _This is fucked up._

"You know the answer," she replied anyway, defiant. Jackson shook his head in disbelief.

"So you go for the exciting guys, and Caleb got boring. Cold." He remarked, still attempting to hide how upset he was getting. He looked up when Cheryl started to raise her voice.

"Who the hell do you think I am?" she demanded, daggers in her eyes. "I didn't try to kill Caleb because I don't love him, and I didn't try to keep you alive because-"Jackson got to his feet, giving her a warning glance as he motioned to the door with his head.

"You let him hear you and I'll kill you right here. Understand?" he growled, interrupting her. Cheryl scowled at him.

"I don't even have feelings for you anymore, you asshole," she continued, but she did lower her voice again. "Yes, I wanted you first, but you didn't seem interested and I _got over _it." She shook her head, laughing bitterly. "So get over _yourself_."

Jackson dropped back in his seat and took a deep drag of his cigarette. He stared at her, waiting for her to continue. "I did what I did because _you_ do what's right and Caleb just gave up," Cheryl insisted. "He knows what goes on, and how important what we do is, but he decided to just abandon it. How can I respect a man like that? How could I let you get killed and let a nothing like him live?" She paused. "How can you not see that?"

Jackson gritted his teeth, twirling the Benchmade in his hand. He had never wanted to slit a throat so badly before. He should have anticipated this. He knew that Cheryl had always been bloodthirsty- how could he have let Caleb fall so hard that he married this specimen? He should have tried harder to break them up earlier on, tried harder to convince Caleb that it was a bad idea. He should have done _something_.

"We do what we do so people like Caleb don't have to," he snarled. They worked behind the scenes to keep the "civilians", as Marie called them, safe. Cheryl had offered Caleb up as a sacrifice just for being a man who preferred to not kill people. Jackson wasn't stupid. He knew that Cheryl was well aware that she didn't not have any other choice. If she had simply told him what Robert was going, he could have responded. She was a liar- she had involved Caleb for her own reasons. He felt the bile rising in his throat. He wanted her dead.

"Is that it?" he asked through clenched teeth, dropping his cigarette into the beer bottle. He pursed his lips and relaxed them again, wanting nothing more than to get out of the room. He felt as though he would break her neck with his bare hands if he stayed. He pinched the bridge of his nose, attempting to will away the increasing pressure in his head.

"No," Cheryl replied, pulling him right back into reality. Jackson exhaled, waiting for her to elaborate. "I'm pregnant," she added. Jackson froze. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. He recalled Caleb telling him that the two hadn't had sex in four months, and Cheryl wasn't obviously showing.

"And it's not Caleb's," he finished, pausing to see if she would refute it. When she said nothing, he opened his eyes again. He didn't recognize anything in this woman. There was absolutely no reason for her to be telling him this. She knew damn well that it wouldn't save her life. She knew that he wouldn't tell Caleb- he knew that his brother wanted a family, and there was no way in hell he would pass on the information that his soon-to-be dead wife was carrying another man's child.

"It's Robert's." Jackson felt a wave of heat rush through his body when he opened his eyes and saw the smirk on Cheryl's face as she watched her words sink in. He recognized that smirk. She was telling him in order to torture him. She knew that he would have keep this secret from Caleb forever. It was her final 'fuck you'.

Jackson broke. He made it to Cheryl in one step and backhanded her across the face, sending her head snapping to the side. At that point, he didn't care if he had broken her neck. He turned and slammed his hand at the wall, leaving his knife sticking in the cheap paneling.

"Oh, don't act like you're defending him," Cheryl snapped, whipping her head around to glare at him. "You didn't give him the time of day until you needed his help. Admit it- you're upset that you lost. You know _exactly_ what I'm talking about. You don't respect him, either." She spat at Jackson's feet, leaving a splatter of blood on the carpet. "You have _one_ weakness, and it's your pride. You're upset because _your_ mind games, your threats, none of it bothers me. You don't scare me. And if Caleb hadn't switched your phones, you never would have figured it out. And-"

Jackson lunged at her, grabbing the woman by the throat. He opened his mouth to tell her that no, she didn't know him. That he loved his brother, and would never do anything like what she was doing. He would never betray the people who he cared about. But she wasn't worth his words, and he owed her nothing. She was dead wrong about him, though- she had to be. He yanked his hand away and spun around, storming into the bedroom.

* * *

Lisa dropped down on Jeff's bed and watched Caleb. He leaned against the door, apparently trying to eavesdrop on the conversation. She wanted to say something, but didn't know what. He seemed so different from when they had parted back in Minnesota, but that was to be expected. She wondered if she had the same look as he did- tired, confused, and out of place.

"What are they saying?" she finally asked, breaking the silence. Caleb sighed, frustrated.

"Nothing much," he replied, "and they're too quiet anyway." He walked over to Lisa and knelt in front of her. "Let's see it," he ordered. Lisa pulled off her hoodie and shifted to move her shoulder closer to Caleb.

"It's funny," she remarked absently as Caleb removed the bandage. When he looked up at her, she continued. "This scar," she said, motioning with her hand, "came from an attack two years ago." Caleb glanced at the scar and then back up at her, giving her his full attention. "I didn't let anyone see it, except doctors. Jackson was the first since then, and now I'm just pulling off my shirt whenever." She laughed awkwardly. "Well, I didn't really give him permission to see it the first time, but still...it's funny."

"Well, I am a doctor," Caleb replied lightheartedly. "Kind of." He smiled. "But I get it. You don't really know me, so..." He rose to his feet and sat down next to her, gauging her reaction. "That kind of violation never really leaves you, but eventually, you learn to move on and trust again. Sounds like you're getting there."

Lisa nodded. "And it sounds to me like you're just starting," she replied tentatively. Caleb raised his eyebrows in surprise and rubbed the back of his neck.

"I don't know if I would compare this to a rape," he replied, staring straight ahead, "but I get what you're saying. It's the risk we take when we trust people, I guess. If you rely on someone, they can break you. If you trust no one, then no one can hurt you." He turned to look at her again. "Right?"

Lisa nodded. She thought back on her previous conversation with Jackson. She had been second-guessing the things he had said about Ben, Jeff, Overtown, and others, and kept telling herself that she was trying to provide another perspective. But now she was wondering if she was still stuck in the remnants of her attack. Was she just having problems completely trusting in someone else? She had thought that she trusted Jackson, but maybe she was still clinging to small shreds of defiance to avoid falling in line.

"I think I'm making things difficult," she admitted, the corners of her mouth turning down slightly. "I want to trust..." she trailed off before saying 'him', remembering what Jackson had said. She shook her head dismissively. "Never mind, it's not important."

Caleb raised an eyebrow. "If you say so," he replied, and turned her torso to get a better glimpse of her stitches. "It's not your fault, you know. He just doesn't know how to be a person sometimes. He can be an asshole, but he's doing the best he can." Lisa looked into his eyes, and he gave her a knowing nod.

Caleb placed both hands on Lisa's elbow and forearm, moving her arm slowly in various directions. "How much does this hurt?" he asked.

"It's just a little stiff," Lisa replied, "like I need to stretch it. It's kind of a dull ache, I guess. How does it look?"

Caleb lowered her arm and let go. "No infection that I can see," he responded. "Stiffness is normal. Actually, there's a fair chance that it will be permanent. The bullet didn't go that deep, but I'm guessing it still did nerve damage." Caleb's face darkened. "I'm sorry," he murmured, sounding guilty.

"For what?" Lisa asked, confused. "You didn't shoot me. And it was so much worse before you helped me."

Caleb began to re-bandage the wound. "But you could have gotten much better treatment in a hospital with sufficient equipment and rest. It's like the difference between masking tape and welding." He sighed. "Do you realize how difficult your life is going to become?"

Lisa frowned. _Going to become?_ "What do you mean? I know I have to work and live where I'm told. Is that what you mean?" She offered her sprained wrist to Caleb, who nodded.

"That, and you can't get a driver's license. You can't get anything that requires a social security number- no bank accounts, no credit cards. If you go to a hospital, you can't give any personal information and you will always have to pay in cash. You can't have a medical record anymore. Living off the grid is incredibly difficult in today's world."

Lisa sighed in frustration. "I know it will be hard, but I don't have any other choice. Except prison."

Caleb shook his head. "That's not technically true," he replied. "I'm assuming that you met Marie. If you turned in her and Jackson, you would probably be able to work out a deal. And you could easily explain what happened at your dad's house."

Lisa's jaw dropped. "Are you really suggesting that I-"

"No," Caleb replied quickly, cutting her off. "I'm saying that it's an option." He inspected her wrist. "This is coming along nicely. It's not a bad sprain. I would say maybe another week with it wrapped, and you'll be fine. It will probably still hurt for a week or so after that, though." He moved Lisa's wrist back to her lap, smiling warmly. "I'm just surprised that you are handling everything so well. It's a real testament to your strength. Impressive, really."

The two turned toward the door when they heard a sudden outburst from Cheryl. Lisa was unable to make out what she was saying, but thought she heard 'Caleb' and 'love'. She looked back at Caleb, wondering if he heard. His facial expression gave nothing away.

"Cheryl doesn't love me," he said, sounding as though he was talking to himself. "I've known for a while, I think." He turned to Lisa, giving her a sad smile. "But I'll be alright eventually." He took her left hand and gave it a quick squeeze. "We have to keep moving, right?"

"Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass," Lisa quoted. "It's about learning how to dance in the rain." She and Caleb looked at each other for a few seconds before she broke out into a giggle, falling onto her back. Caleb also laughed, giving her an incredulous look. "Someone gave me a card with that on it once. I wanted to tear it up, but I stuck it to my fridge," she explained, still laughing. "It's cheesy, but I love the imagery."

Lisa looked up at Caleb, who was thoroughly amused. He was so sweet- how could anyone want to hurt him? Caleb dropped down next to her, staring at the ceiling. He still chuckled every once in a while. "That was really stupid," he admitted, "but thanks."

Lisa rolled her head to look at him. "No problem. I have a few more, if you want. There's a cute one about a caterpillar." Caleb shook his head, grinning.

"Maybe later," he replied. Lisa was amazed in how quickly he became the Caleb that she had met earlier, and hoped with all her heart that he wasn't putting on a mask like his brother was prone to do. She didn't know Caleb well at all, but she felt an odd connection with him- he was so easy to talk to. And it was amazing how at first glance, he seemed so different from Jackson, but she could see many similarities in their demeanor.

"Do you want to talk?" she asked quietly. "About Cheryl, I mean?" Caleb shook his head, his amusement fading.

"Not really," he replied. "I'm trying to cope with it, but I just don't want to be treated like an emotional invalid. You know what I mean?"

Lisa nodded. "I hated the sympathetic looks," she admitted. "And how the people who knew- my dad, mostly- didn't know how to act around me. It's easy to treat yourself like an incomplete person when everyone is treating you like one. You can get so sucked up in the sympathy and just end up feeling sorry for yourself."

Caleb nodded in agreement. "I'll keep your offer in mind, though," he informed her. "Thanks again."

Lisa smiled warmly. "Thank _you_," she insisted. "For everything." She opened her mouth to ask Caleb if he was really going to participate in Robert's execution, but she was interrupted by the violent opening of the door. She and Caleb both shot to their feet, and she tightened in fear from the look of pure rage on Jackson's face.

Within seconds, Jackson's face turned to stone, as though he were sucking his emotions into a tight container. "I need to talk to Lisa," he said to Caleb, his jaw muscles flexing from the strain of his attempt at self-composure. Caleb nodded, and made a quick exit.

Lisa reached down for her hoodie, realizing that she and Caleb probably made quite the picture laying on Jeff's bed like that. How had she _not_ noticed that she was still topless? Jackson strode deliberately to her, knocking the material out of her hands. He grabbed her face with both hands and tilted his face down to pull her into a hard kiss. Lisa felt her knees give way and she quickly hooked her arms under his, clinging to his shoulders to maintain her balance.

Jackson wrapped an arm around her neck tightly, pulling her body firmly against his as his tongue moved wildly in her mouth. Lisa's eyes shut even more tightly as she felt the burst of pain in her shoulder, and she tried to pull away.

Jackson's grip loosened. "Tell me I'm not like she says," he murmured harshly against her lips, and dove into her mouth again. Lisa's heart tightened at the pain she heard. "Tell me I'm not a monster." He kissed her again, sucking the very breath out of her. Lisa staggered backwards as Jackson released her, pulling off his t-shirt in one quick motion.

"You're not a monster," Lisa assured him, her voice shaking. She had never seen him like this, and it was scaring her. Not because of how rough he was being, but because of how tortured he looked. "Jackson-" She was cut off by another hard kiss, and she couldn't help but moan. She had never felt like this before. She knew that she should be protesting his behavior, but his behavior just wasn't the problem. In fact, it felt surprisingly thrilling. Jackson stepped forward, causing Lisa to back up until she hit the edge of the bed and fell onto her back. Jackson came down with her, catching himself on his forearms to prevent himself from crushing her.

Her back arched as Jackson ran his fingers roughly up her spine, unhooking her bra with one hand. Lisa briefly tensed, but didn't struggle as he slid her straps down her arms, exposing her bare breasts. "Jackson," she tried to begin again, but it came out as a sharp gasp as she felt his mouth enclose around a hard nipple, sucking it and flicking his tongue over the tip. She shuddered in pleasure, her eyes closing again. She flinched when he ran a tongue over her scar, kissing it.

"I don't want to hurt you," he murmured miserably, and Lisa felt hot droplets hitting her skin. She had to stop him. She grabbed his face with both hands and pulled sharply, forcing him to crawl up to become face to face with her again.

"What happened?" she demanded, trying to pull him out of this frenzy that he was in. He just looked at her, and the wild expression on his face broke her heart. She used her thumbs to wipe the tears from under his eyes. She kissed him softly, running one hand through his hair in an attempt to soothe him. Her other hand stroked his spine. "What happened?" she asked again, whispering. "Talk to me."

"_You_ happened," Jackson replied, closing his eyes. He dropped his head down onto her chest, breathing heavily. "I don't want to be a bad person anymore." He pulled his arms in, squeezing her sides. "Fuck you, Lisa. I was _fine_ before I met you."

Lisa was stunned. She had no idea how to respond to this. Should she apologize? Say 'you're welcome'? His words were harsh, but she didn't feel like his anger was directed at her.

"You're not a bad person," she murmured, still caressing his back. She could feel the muscles relaxing under her fingertips. "You just try to be sometimes."

Jackson raised his head, looking at her. He seemed to be analyzing her, trying to figure out if she meant what she was saying. Apparently he liked what he saw, because he leaned forward for another kiss. This one was softer, and Lisa felt him sink into her, letting her support his weight.

She smiled, reaching up to brush his hair from his eyes. "I think we're going to be okay," she assured him, cupping his jaw with her hand. Gazing into his eyes, she knew that she was falling in love with Jackson Rippner. All she could do now was hope that she wouldn't live- or die- to regret it.

* * *

**Oh God, so much drama. I hope that it wasn't over the top. I didn't intend for it to get that heavy, but the words sort of wrote themselves after a certain point. Let me know in the reviews, pretty please!**

**Oh, and I want to do a quick poll: Do you guys think that Jackson, Lisa, and Caleb will all survive to see the end of the story? If not, who is marked for death in your mind?**


	21. Compromise

**I've noticed that I usually have one or two "guest" reviewers. Since I can't PM you guys (to give you the preview that the rest of my reviewers get), if you still want one, feel free to email me - dick0382 umn. edu (it's my NAME...I'm not a pervert). Looks like the people who voted in my poll all think Caleb will draw the short straw, but would prefer that no one dies. So, Caleb's your sacrificial lamb, reviewers? Poor guy. :P**

**trudes193-** Merci. I'm glad you enjoyed it.

**Astrianne-** I'm glad you like the quote- I actually have that (and the caterpillar one) as magnets on my fridge. Also glad you like the title. It can be a bitch to pick them when all I have are song titles on my iTunes (I don't know why I always do it that way).

**Jesscah-** Aw, no one (except Robert, apparently) likes Cheryl. As I mentioned to you before, I was going to have a little tension between them, but on top of not wanting EVERYONE to hate each other, I realized that they actually have common ground. And as for Jackson's little outburst, I have to admit that I enjoyed visualizing it. Glad you enjoyed!

**pinky's creature feature-** I can't get over how your first line ("omg I'm so excited to see what happens!") looks next to your profile pic of Zoiberg, who looks like he's flailing. I just stared and giggled like an idiot. And I'll try to be as nice as I can to our little characters, but happy endings are just so difficult for me. I want one SOO badly when the ending is sad, but usually end up hating it when I do read one. We'll see what happens- I have no ending solidly planned at the moment.

**Pirate Gyrl-** Yes, her butter has slipped off her cracker. She'll get a little more "special" later. As for the greeting card, I could just see her getting a card like that, hating it, but feeling obligated to put it on her fridge (and liking it well enough to quote it). It seemed very "Lisa" to me.

**KnoKnayme-** Glad to hear that it wasn't over the top and too soap opera!

**EmpireAndAll-** Oh sure, point out my flaw. :P Can we just pretend that they're a little hipster about their phones? As for your second review: I have a feeling that you're right.

**Guest-** Wow, thanks! It seems like the more I get nervous about my chapters, the more supportive you guys get. All my love is reserved for you fantastic people.

**Clavis Salomonis-** Love heart goo! Thanks for the support, my lovely.

**In honor of the reviewers who responded so fantastically to my last scene, I wrote a little more porn. And drama. And a new character's point of view. Enjoy:**

* * *

**Chapter 21: Compromise**

"She's _pregnant_?" Lisa asked in disbelief. Jackson nodded, shifting to lay perpendicular to Lisa, his head on her stomach. He stared at the ceiling. He had relayed his previous conversation to her, and she was trying to take it all in. Lisa scowled. Any doubt she had felt about killing Cheryl was gone. "You're not going to tell Caleb, are you?"

Jackson scoffed. "Absolutely not."

Lisa absently played with his hair. "Will he call it off if he finds out?" she asked. "What if she tells him?" Jackson reached over his head and grabbed Lisa's hand, intertwining his fingers in hers.

"She won't," he responded coldly. "It wasn't a confession that she was trying to get off her chest- she just told me to get under my skin. She might even be lying." He chuckled dryly as Lisa's stomach rumbled. "You sound hungry."

Lisa half-smiled. "I am," she replied. She squeezed Jackson's hand and nudged him off of her, pulling herself into a sitting position. "You _do_ believe that you're not like her, right?" Jackson rolled onto his stomach, propping himself up with his forearms.

"Honestly?" he asked. "I want to, but I..." He hung his head. "I _agreed_ with her in a way, Leese. I understood why she didn't love or respect Caleb anymore. I've done a lot of things that decent people would find horrible, but I feel no remorse for most of them." He looked up at her again. "And I don't feel guilty for not feeling guilty."

Lisa nodded. It unnerved her to see him lacking confidence, and she felt conflicted. On one hand, she could feed this lack and maybe convince him to give up his profession, but on the other, she knew that he was good at it and what he did was important. Then again, if he was second-guessing himself so much, he probably wouldn't be as good at it as he used to. And yet again, she knew that he still had Keefe and Robert to kill. It was occurring to her more and more that he was relying on her to help him out. He would never say the things he was saying just to share his feelings- he was genuinely lost, and whatever she said could very well influence his next moves.

"Well," she began, leaning back on her forearms. She didn't continue, realizing that she still didn't know quite how to handle it. She looked at Jackson to see if she could see some indication of which direction he wanted her to head. She saw only questions in his eyes, and could tell that he was waiting for her answer. "It's one thing to kill when you believe that it's necessary," she said carefully. "What Cheryl is doing is betrayal, and she's been doing it for a while. It's different. Even if she was successful, and Caleb was killed, you would be alive and you would go after Robert. She has to know that."

Lisa furrowed her eyebrows. "The way I see it," she continued, "she's using the situation to get rid of an inconvenience and leaving you and Robert to fight it out...if she had any guts, she would have just left Caleb long ago. And that's very different than what you do." She traced her fingers along her collarbone, trying to figure out exactly what she was attempting to say.

"I guess...maybe you _don't_ respect Caleb for walking out, but you would never punish him for it. You understand that it's his decision to make, even if you disagree with it. And that's what makes you a better person." She waited for Jackson to reply, but he just continued to stare at her. "Maybe you didn't avoid Caleb because you were hurt that he left. Maybe you avoided him because you knew that he was trying to start a new life, and you knew that you were part of the old life...it hurts to do the right thing sometimes, like you feel like you're watching out for everyone else and wondering who has your back." She winced in frustration. "Sorry, that didn't make much sense, did it?"

Jackson shrugged, pondering what she said. "It does," he finally replied. He pushed himself onto his knees and slid closer to Lisa. "If I continue doing what I do..." he began, frowning slightly. He seemed nervous. "...will you stay?" He cleared his throat. "With me, I mean."

Lisa's eyes widened. She hadn't expected _that_. She rested her chin on her own shoulder, staring at him. He still looked so vulnerable, and she didn't want to hurt him. But she couldn't lie either. "I don't know," she responded, and frowned when she saw his face drop. "It's not because I don't like it," she continued hastily. "I mean, I don't really like it, but I get it. And I guess I support it in a way. But I think I'd be afraid for you a lot." She forced a smile, wanting so badly to fix the sadness on his face. "This is all happening so fast," she said, turning her torso to take both of his hands in hers. "I'll make you a deal." She used his weight to pull herself closer to him. "Ask me again when this is over, and I'll have a definite answer. Alright?"

Jackson nodded, his face warming slightly. He slid his hand under her thighs and pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her waist. Lisa giggled as she looked down at him. "Do you realize that this is the first time that we've had a meaningful conversation without one of us getting angry?" she asked, kissing him quickly. "It's a little creepy."

Jackson chuckled softly. "Well, I could insult you if you'd prefer," he teased, and pressed his face against her throat. "Maybe threaten you," he mumbled, kissing under her jawline. Lisa tilted her head back, closing her eyes. She grabbed his shoulders, using him for support as she leaned back, allowing him to trail kisses down her neck and collarbone. She felt his sinfully experience lips on her breasts again and closed her eyes. In the past, with the few boyfriends she had had, this kind of foreplay bored her. She always felt like they were rushing through it, eager to get to the "good part". Jackson was different- he seemed to savor her, probably enjoying the thrill of torturing his prey more than the actual devouring. She reveled in the feeling of his tongue sliding over her nipple again, and jolted slightly when she felt him blow softly on the wet skin. A shiver traveled through her body.

"You're surprisingly good at this," she teased, bucking her hips against him when he bit down gently on a nipple in a silent reply. Jackson groaned, squeezing her shoulder blades. She felt his arousal pressing between her legs through the fabric of their jeans, and pulled her entire weight against him, eliciting sharp moans from both of them. He bucked his hips in response, sending another jolt of pleasure through her body. Lisa was no man's prey, and she could give as well as she got.

Lisa grabbed Jackson's face with both hands and pulled him up. She leaned down, kissing him deeply as her fingers trailed down his chest, stomach, and to the buckle of his belt. She felt so free, and all she could think about was how badly she wanted him.

Jackson placed both hands on her sides and pushed her off of his lap, sending her onto her back. Lisa frowned incredulously as he got to his feet. _What the hell?_ He motioned around the room. "Not _here._"

Lisa raised both eyebrows. She had never heard of a man giving _himself_ blue balls before. But she understood, and allowed Jackson to pull her to her feet. She could even convince herself that it was more romantic than practical- he wanted their first time to be better than somewhat awkward moments spent being distracted by the thought his brother and their hostage on the other side of the door.

Jackson carefully bent down to retrieve her hoodie and bra, and handed the two items to her. "I think I need a shower," he stated, obviously chagrined. Lisa giggled softly and kissed him quickly to let him know that she wasn't upset. She was disappointed, but definitely agreed that it wasn't the best of settings.

"Alright, but do me another favor," she replied, pressing her body against his. Jackson inhaled sharply and grabbed her shoulders tightly to push her away, but Lisa wasn't going anywhere. "You need to get it together again," she teased, trying to lighten the mood and still get her point across. "I think I like you better as an arrogant jerk." She smiled and leaned up to kiss the tip of Jackson's nose playfully. "Okay?" In a way, she did prefer that Jackson have his confidence, despite that fact that he used that confidence to use and murder people who may or may not deserve it, but realistically she knew that he needed that confidence to get through the night.

"Mhm," he responded, and pushed her firmly from him. He looked her over once more before turning for the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Lisa pulled her clothes back on and dropped onto the bed, breathing deeply to calm herself. She knew that her cheeks were still flushed, and she ached to be back in his arms. It had been so long since she had allowed herself to be touched in that way, and she felt as though a dam inside her was broken. She needed more, and knowing that she wouldn't get it anytime soon was almost too frustrating to handle. She felt an unfamiliar urge to follow Jackson into the bathroom and jump in that shower with him. A cold shower felt like a great idea. Running her fingers quickly through her short hair, she forced herself to calm down and finally exit the room.

Caleb sat on the couch, staring at his wife. How did they get here? Caleb couldn't figure out who was surprising him more- Cheryl, or Jackson. His brother had changed so much over the last decade, and it definitely seemed like there was yet another personality shift. He could see glimpses of the brother he knew well, the actual human inside him. He grinned, wondering if it was technically progression or regression if a person behaves more like they did ten years ago, if that older self was a more complete person. All he knew was that smart money was on Lisa having something to do with the changes.

He heard the bedroom door open, and turned to see the woman in question standing in the doorway, staring at Cheryl. He took in her disheveled hair and pink cheeks. He noticed that the shower was running in the other room, and couldn't help but chuckle.

"You should probably tell Jeff to wash his sheets," he teased, drinking from the bottle of beer that Jackson had left behind.

Lisa paled. "We just talked," she replied nervously. Caleb raised an eyebrow. He wasn't blind. He could see that there was something between the two of them that hadn't been there back in Minnesota. And he knew that they weren't "just talking"- he wasn't deaf, either.

"Thin walls," he replied, still grinning. It was oddly amusing to see her so uncomfortable under her gaze. Lisa's cheeks flushed again, and she broke his gaze. She walked over to Cheryl, who was unconscious on the chair.

"What happened?" she asked, changing the subject. She dropped next to Caleb, who also looked at Cheryl again. The smear of blood on the corner of her mouth was almost dried, and the swelling on her face was getting worse. Caleb was pretty sure that Jackson had fractured her her cheekbone, which could only have been caused by an incredibly hard hit.

"I sedated her," he replied coolly. He had had enough of her winces and moans, knowing that he didn't have the resources available to fix her- even if he wanted to. "Jackson hit her. She wouldn't tell me why." He glanced at her. "Did he tell you?"

Lisa shrugged. "Not really," she responded, and it was obviously a lie. Caleb frowned. What could she have said to make Jackson angry enough to inflict that much damage and to make Lisa seem too scared to tell him? He stared at her, seeing if she would continue. "Ask _him_," she relented. "I'm sure he'd rather you hear it from him, not me." He nodded. _Fair enough. _The two sat in silence, staring at Cheryl.

"He thinks he's a monster," Lisa said quietly, breaking the silence. She pulled her knees close to her chest. "He's been saying it for days. I thought he was just trying to scare me, but he believes it."

Caleb nodded, sighing. He wished that he could rewind life back to three weeks ago, before any of this had happened. Things were easier then- the past wasn't being constantly dragged to the surface. "I know," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "He's been like that since Dad died." Lisa frowned, turning to face him.

"Really?" she asked, confused. "He told me what happened."

Caleb smiled grimly. "Charming story, isn't it?" He took another drink. "Jackson's an _artist_ with reality," he admitted sarcastically. _What an understatement. _"He can rewrite events and people without a problem." He lit a cigarette, waving his free hand absently. "It's a coping mechanism, I think. I don't know." And he really didn't want to get into it. He should have kept his mouth shut.

Lisa rested her chin on her knees. "So it wasn't like he said? I mean, I sort of figured that he felt more guilty about it than he says...that's pretty obvious."

Caleb sighed. He couldn't very well tell her to drop it now. He twisted around, glancing at the bedroom door. The shower was still running. "Alright," he said, dropping his voice even lower. "Let me get this all out before you ask questions." Lisa smiled slightly, which threw Caleb for a moment. He didn't see what was so amusing. She nodded. "Our dad wasn't the saint that Jackson makes him out to be- before the accident, I mean. He drank, and he could get mean. Mostly to our mom."

Lisa raised her eyebrows in surprise, but remained silent. Caleb fidgeted, trying to figure out the short version. Even though Jackson had told Lisa what he remembered happening, Caleb still didn't feel like it was his place to tell her the real events.

"But that was rare. I guess for the most part, he just wasn't around," he continued. "But when he was around, he wasn't a very nice guy." He took a drag of his cigarette. "I'm smoking way too much," he remarked, staring at the drug. He saw Lisa roll her eyes and nod. _Hippie. _"Fuck...anyway, it didn't get _physical_ until after the accident. Before that, he was always putting us down. We were never good enough for him." He glanced at Lisa, who was practically raising her hand. "What?" he asked, sighing.

"Why does Jackson say he was a great dad?" Lisa asked quickly. _Good question._

"Because he loved our dad, and wanted to be loved, I guess," he replied. "I mean, he never told me so, but that's my best guess. He was always trying to give Dad reasons to like him- going to the range, watching the same movies, listening to the same music. He used to talk about wanting to be a cop." Caleb had mostly given up trying to win their dad's affection by the time they reached double digits- he just tried to stay out of the man's way. But Jackson was unrelenting until after the accident. It was almost as though his brother had finally realized who their dad was, but he had blamed it on the accident, refusing to see James Rippner as anyone other than a hero who was destroyed by a horrible incident.

"So he thinks he's a monster because he killed him?" Lisa asked, pulling Caleb from his thoughts.

He shrugged. "Either that or because he never got that approval, so he won't be happy himself. Or because he still knows the truth and he's scared that he's turning into him." Caleb shrugged. "There are lots of possibilities, and he's not talking."

Lisa took the bottle from Caleb's hands, and took a drink. "Is he?" she asked, resting her cheek on her knees and looking at him.

"Like Dad?" he asked, taking a drag from the cigarette. Lisa nodded. Caleb sighed, bouncing his heels on the carpet. "In a way, I guess," he replied, frowning with uncertainty. "Not really, though." Jackson wasn't an asshole. He cared about the people close to him in his own weird way, but he was also good at his job. Putting the job above his own life was really the only thing Jackson did that reminded Caleb of James.

He looked over at Lisa, who was staring at him with that familiar questioning expression on her face. Surprisingly, she remained silent, even after Caleb raised his eyebrows, signaling that was finished and she was free to comment.

"What?" he finally asked, dropping his cigarette in Jeff's old bottle.

Lisa chewed her lip nervously. Was she afraid to talk to him? Obviously, they didn't know each other well at all, but Caleb assumed they were in the kind of position that allowed for a breach of typical social norms. "You can ask me."

"I get what you're saying about your dad, and I guess it makes sense," Lisa began after a few more moments of silence. "I don't get what happened with your mom, though. Why wouldn't she want to see you?"

"Didn't we already go over this?" The two jumped in surprise at the sound of Jackson's voice from behind them. Caleb hadn't even noticed that the shower had turned off or that Jackson had opened the door.

Jackson stood in the doorway wearing only a towel, and he did not look pleased. "I could have _sworn_ that we did," he added coldly, grabbing his bag from next to the couch. "Maybe I have a weird case of amnesia." He walked back into the bedroom, but they could still hear him talking. "Makes sense, though. Apparently I don't know my own father."

Caleb rose to his feet and walked into the bedroom, motioning for the already-standing Lisa to stay with Cheryl. He shut the door behind him. "How long were you listening?" he asked nervously. The last time they attempted to have this conversation was when they were 19, and it had resulted in a dorm room brawl, after which Jackson refused to speak to him for a few days.

Jackson tossed the duffel onto Jeff's bed and rummaged through it. "I'm afraid that I'm turning into Dad?" he asked. He scoffed. "You chose the wrong profession, Caleb. You and Lisa would have made one hell of a psychiatric team." He pulled a set of clothes out of the bag. "Kind of ironic that you have spare time to analyze me when _your_ personal lives are less than fantastic."

Caleb leaned against the door, crossing his arms. He swallowed hard, choosing not to respond to Jackson's last jab. "What do you expect when you refuse to let anyone in?" he asked defensively. "Lisa has been stuck in a car with you for days. _I've _been stuck with you for twenty-eight years. Actually _talking_ to you doesn't get us very far, so we fill in the gaps. It's just how we amuse ourselves, I guess."

Jackson dropped his towel. "Fair enough," he responded flatly. Caleb relaxed- apparently Jackson wasn't in the mood for a fight. _Must be too tired._ He twisted his wedding ring absently, watching his brother pull on his jeans.

"Do we have a plan yet?" he asked, changing the subject. Jackson nodded, pulling on one of Caleb's t-shirts.

"Ben said that Robert's going to hide at the King of Diamonds, so we're going to have to get him out. We have three of his men on our side, against Robert and two more. I figure I just have to get him out, and his men will follow." He ran his hands through his hair, trying to smooth it back. I figure he'll try to take me somewhere since there's too much security there, and that's it."

"I'm coming," Caleb told him. As far as he was concerned, it wasn't open to debate.

Jackson carried the towel into the bathroom, and walked out again. "No," he replied, apparently not agreeing. Caleb held fast.

"This is personal," he insisted. "I'm coming. You know I can help, and then it will be four on three." He approached his brother, who had crossed his arms in defiance. "You can't use guns, so you need as many people as you can get."

"We're going to kill them," Jackson reminded him. "Pretty sure that violates your oath." Caleb clenched his jaw.

"It's more of a tradition than a contract," he replied, attempting to add a little levity. Jackson wasn't fooled, and stared at him skeptically. "Come _on_," Caleb insisted, embarrassed to find that his words came out as a whine. "It's a huge advantage. Send me in, as you. You can catch them off-guard when we come out."

When Jackson remained silent, he continued. "You said they'll take you somewhere else, right? Send Ben a text and tell him to leave the second car unlocked. Or Jeff can break in. You hide in the second car, and Ben can make sure that our guys are the only ones that get in." He dropped onto the bed. "Or if one of Robert's guys get in, you can threaten them into silence. When we get to wherever, you can attack Robert then."

Jackson raised his eyebrows, dropping next to his brother. "You'll be in the middle of it," he replied, sounding concerned. "Are you sure that's what you want?"

Caleb drummed his fingers on his knees. "Yes," he insisted, wishing that he were as confident as he sounded. "I want to help you. What if something happens and you get killed? And I just sat here?" He conveniently didn't mention that he was describing the same situation that they had been in for the last five years. Finally, Jackson nodded.

"You'll have to clean up," he remarked, teasing Caleb. "If you're going to pass as me, you have to be a lot more refined." Caleb laughed.

"You're a philistine compared to me," he replied, feigning indignation. He sifted through Jackson's bag, folding the clothes that had been crammed inside. "What did Cheryl say?" he finally asked hesitantly. After seeing Cheryl's face, he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer.

"She doesn't love you anymore," Jackson replied, running his hands through his hair again and walking away from the bed. Caleb scowled, glaring at his brother's back.

"Obviously," he snapped. "And?" Did Jackson really think he was that stupid?

"And apparently you _were_ her second choice," Jackson replied, leaning against the dresser. Caleb crossed his arms, skeptically eyeing him. He _knew_ all of this. It still didn't explain why Jackson had lost his cool. Were they supposed to just pretend that he hadn't come storming into the bedroom less than half an hour earlier? Why couldn't they just _talk_?

"You aren't going to tell me, are you?" he said, hanging his head. He didn't know why he bothered talking to Jackson sometimes. He quickly stood up, defeated. For his part, Jackson remained silent, an unreadable expression on his face. Caleb quickly ran a hand through his hair. "Hopefully this will be over soon, and we can go back to being half a country apart." He sighed. "It's just better that way."

Jackson's face dropped, and he stood up straight again. He opened his mouth, but closed it with a deep sigh, clenching his jaw. Caleb stared right back at him. He wanted to back down, apologize, but he was tired of pretending that Jackson's behavior wasn't a big deal to him. He wanted his brother to hurt as much as he did.

"I'm doing you a favor," Jackson finally spat, leaning back against the dresser again. Caleb could see that he wanted to say more, but was holding back. He had the familiar posture- the hunched, defensive shoulders, his eyes turned to the ground.

"It's not your job to protect me anymore," Caleb murmured, walking to stand next to Jackson. He leaned against the dresser, also staring at the carpet. "Why can't we watch each others' backs? You know...mutually?" He stole a sideways glance at his brother, who finally turned his head toward him.

Jackson narrowed his eyes, thinking. He barely nodded, lifting his eyes to meet Caleb's. "But you have to be serious," he responded, analyzing his brother. "You can't just back down when the heat's on."

Caleb scoffed, slightly offended. "Is that what you think?" he asked bitterly, looking at the floor again. "I just ran away when it got too hard? I thought about it for over a year before I left." He dug his shoe into the carpet. "But this is different. This is personal, and not because it's Cheryl. It's _you_, and Lisa, and obviously Lisa is important to you – I'm not blind," he interrupted himself when he saw Jackson about to speak. "I'm doing it for you. Bottom line. And then I'm done – back to Minnesota and a normal life."

Caleb walked away from the dresser and ran a hand through his hair again. He turned to look at Jackson. "You should have told me," he accused. He couldn't understand why Jackson would choose to keep it from him.

Jackson snorted. "Yeah, that makes sense. 'Hey Caleb, sorry about your wife, we totally need to think of a plan to kill a bunch of people – oh, and Lisa and I are kind of starting a relationship maybe.'" He grinned. "One of these things is not like the others, one of these things doesn't belong–"

"Oh shut up," Caleb interrupted, grinning in spite of himself. "I see your point...so," he began carefully, "what did she say?" Jackson shook his head.

"Just a lot of crazy bullshit," he replied casually. "And I didn't appreciate it."

Caleb raised an eyebrow. "You potentially gave her a zygomatic fracture because you didn't appreciate her bullshit?"

Jackson nodded. "I have anger issues. It's a real problem." He grinned again. "And your jargon doesn't impress me."

Caleb threw up his hands in exaggerated defeat. "Alright, fine. I'll stop asking." If Jackson was this insistent, he was probably better off not knowing. "And I'll get you some Xanax." The two brothers turned toward the bedroom door, hearing Jeff enter the house again.

"You know," Jackson said, sobered. "I could be wrong about what's going to happen tonight. It could be a trap, and if I send you in, you could get killed. Or they could kill you in the car. Or any number of other things, really."

Caleb nodded, and glanced back at his brother. "I know," he replied simply, and walked out of the bedroom. He knew that he was doing the right thing by joining the fight, and he was trying to come across as calm about it, but secretly, he was terrified of what that night and the next few days would bring. He wasn't worried about being killed- he was worried about what he would become with a weapon in his hands again.

* * *

**For those of you who never saw Sesame Street in the 70s, here is where Jackson's "one of these things" line came from: www. youtube watch?v=Ect-kgxBb4M.**

**So, my beta is M.I.A., and I love having someone to talk to when I'm writing. If you're interested in having ideas bounced off of you, I love Skyping with people (I have a few readers added already). If you're interested, please send me a PM.**

**Finally, in chapter 22, _there will be blood. For real. Promise._**

**R&R or Cheryl will survive them all. I'm serious. :D**


	22. Psycho Killer

**trudes193- **Hopefully this chapter will keep you on the edge of your seat as well. :P

**EmpireAndAll- **Oh God, I want those books! Although Caleb might object to your use of "amateur". :P As for your hipster comment...I love you. :D

**Guest- **Thanks! I've had people quote that to me, and it always makes me laugh.

**breaktheradarr- **Thanks so much! I hope you like this one as much.

**pinky's creature feature- **That's not weird. I added that to make things a little less black and white. That last part made me laugh. :D

**Astrianne- **Hopefully the wait was worth it!

**Pirate Gyrl- **She deserves everything she gets. Don't worry- little pieces will keep coming out. Jackson isn't the boss of Lisa, remember? :) She wants to know, and she will get it.

**CharliRenee123- **Wow. Thanks so much for this review. As for his mom, that's not weird at all. In fact, his mom just _might_ come into play later on. We'll see. ;)

**shygirl593- **Thanks!

**Mhairi-** I have to disagree that Jackson is "consistently" a man. He has several moments in the movie where you can see the emotions trying to break out, but he does a decent job at controlling them. Also, the last 20 minutes or so have nothing to do with logic (Lisa even points this out). Jackson has developed in this story to the point where he's having a little more difficulty reigning in his emotions. But don't worry, he will get it together in this chapter. However, if Jackson were to be completely impassive and robotic, Lisa would have nothing to do with him. Hope you continue to enjoy the story. :)

**WARNING: THIS CHAPTER GETS EXTREMELY GRAPHIC. Also, there is a lot of POV bouncing.**

* * *

**Chapter 22: Psycho Killer**

Jackson slid out of Jeff's car and approached another vehicle in the parking lot. He had texted Ben the new plan hours prior, and had received the plate number of the car that Robert would not be riding in. He opened the door and quickly sat in the back, lying down across the seat to keep out of sight. He stared at the roof of the car above him- the only sounds he could hear were the occasional passersby talking, and the beating of his own heart.

Jackson couldn't remember the last time he was this nervous about a job. He felt like their plan was solid, but he still couldn't get over the fact that he had potentially thrown his own brother to the wolves. What if something went wrong?

He had tried, and for the most part succeeded, to pretend that he was fine with the plan. As soon as Lisa had found out that Caleb was the one going into the club, however, she had tried to talk Jackson into changing his mind. She had made it clear more than once that she didn't trust the plan one bit, and seemed even more horrified at the idea that Caleb was directly involved.

Her reaction had slightly thrown off Jackson. She and Caleb had obviously formed some weird bond, and she seemed more worried about _his_ safety than Jackson's. Jackson couldn't deny that he was jealous, but not for a normal reason. She apparently had it in her head that Caleb was some innocent man that Jackson was dragging back into his dark world.

Seeing her reaction had made him feel somewhat inferior and even a little ashamed of who he was. Lisa had expressed concern for his safety before- and he had abruptly rejected those concerns- but it was because of the details of his plan, not the plan itself. She seemed completely jaded when it came to the idea that he was going to kill people. Not _Caleb_, though- she regarded Caleb as a good person, and it was _Jackson's_ wicked influence that led to him being part of the executions. Which was true in a way, but Caleb was no rookie.

Jackson half-smiled. Someday he would have to tell her some of the stories from when he and Caleb first started in the agency- his brother was a better killer than Jackson ever had been. When he thought that he was doing the right thing, he enjoyed it quite enthusiastically. Caleb was no angel, but he was also no match for a worst-case scenario of being unarmed against five men. And that was what nagged at the back of Jackson's mind, the only thing that could really ruin their plan- betrayal.

* * *

Lisa lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling. She vaguely recalled the technical name of the texture, but she knew it as a cottage cheese ceiling. _So ugly_. She stared at the little white lumps, trying to find constellation-like patterns in the layout. She glanced at the wall clock. 1:15- they had only been gone for fifteen minutes. _They're not even at the club yet...Jesus._

Lisa lifted her left hand and stared at the paper clutched in her grasp. Jackson had given it to her before he left, explaining that he had gotten her a seat on a flight to New York that morning. If she didn't hear from him by 2:30, things had gone very wrong. If that happened, she was supposed to call a phone number he had given her which would connect her with a "cleaner" that would "take care of Cheryl" and catch a cab to the airport. He had given her another phone number, one for a woman named Trudi who would pick her up at the airport and help her get settled into the new life that they had put together for her. Lisa had had a million questions for Jackson, but she kept them to herself. It wouldn't do any good to make either of them more nervous by elaborating on what a failure meant for anyone involved.

Lisa rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. It was becoming more and more of a reality that she might never see Jackson or Caleb again. She clenched her jaw, trying to hold back tears that were starting to sting her eyes. She thought about the last time she had seen Jackson. He had assured her that the paper was a formality, that everything would be fine, but then slipped another note into the pocket of her jeans.

"_Only_ if you don't hear from me. Understand?" he had whispered, and grabbed her hand, squeezing it tightly. She had promised, and then they were gone.

Lisa could feel the corners of the note digging into her thigh. She fidgeted against the couch cushions, wanting so badly to read what he had given her, but at the same time, hoping that she never would.

The silence and lack of interesting designs on that stupid cottage cheese ceiling forced Lisa to obsess over her current situation. She was surprised at just how quickly she was falling for Jackson. In a way, it was sick- the more he broke down, the more she was drawn to him. She just knew there was a hidden persona trying to escape- there _had _to be.

At the same time, as he became more and more vulnerable, Lisa's guilt grew. Was she really helping, or just helping him lose his sanity? She had seen the small breaks in his mental armor before, but nothing like she had seen that day. Did _she _really have to tell _him _to get it together? Did that really happen?

"He's never coming back, you know." Lisa's limbs jerked involuntarily when Cheryl's voice permeated her brooding. She brought a hand to her chest and took a deep breath. The other woman was just trying to get under her skin, so Lisa did not reply.

"I mean it," Cheryl continued, her voice slurring lightly. _When did she wake up? _Lisa narrowed her eyes, studying the blonde. She made a mental note to never get hit in the face by Jackson, seeing the woman's left eye red with blood and her warped cheekbone. She wondered if she was supposed to get some kind of painkiller for Cheryl- Caleb hadn't said much about her before he had left.

Cheryl frowned, apparently not appreciating Lisa's lack of verbal response. "Robert isn't stupid," she insisted, frustrated. Lisa scoffed and rested her head on the arm of the couch again. She decided that she didn't care enough about Cheryl to share the pills that Caleb had given her.

"Not that it matters now," Cheryl taunted. "They're dead men. Four men don't stand a chance against ten." Lisa froze. _Ten?_ She turned her head again, eyeing Cheryl suspiciously. "_Now_ I have your attention," Cheryl said, smiling as best she could.

"Three," Lisa replied flatly. She forced herself to calm down. Cheryl would have no way of knowing if Robert had a surprise planned, and if his team was bigger than Jackson thought, Ben would have told him...unless Ben was in on it. Lisa shook her head slightly. If Ben were in on it, Cheryl wouldn't have said four. Jackson, Caleb, Ben, and this guy Mark made four. She recalled what Jackson had told her earlier about Jeff being legitimate, and knew that he wouldn't be counted- he refused to be part of any killing. No, Cheryl had to be full of it.

The other woman gave her a dark smile. "Ten at least," she replied. "Do you really think someone like Robert would attempt something like this with only a handful of men?"

Lisa scowled. She hated when people were vague. "Something like _what_?" she asked, forcing her voice to remain steady. She wouldn't let Cheryl see that she remotely believed what she was hearing.

"A take-over," Cheryl replied simply, as though it were obvious. Lisa raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"A take-over," she repeated incredulously. "That's bullshit. Why would you tell me?"

Cheryl shrugged, and tried to hide a wince. "What are _you_ going to do about it?" she asked confidently. "I highly doubt you have anyone's number in your phone. Are you going to run to the club? Steal a car? You couldn't get there in time." She laughed coldly. "You're just useless, honey."

Lisa reached into her bag and pulled out her phone. She didn't know if she believed Cheryl, but it wouldn't hurt to warn Jackson, would it? She plugged the phone into the wall and turned it on. Her heart skipped a beat when she realized right from the opening screen that the phone had never been turned on. Cheryl was right- she hadn't been given any numbers.

Lisa stared into Cheryl's smirking face, trying her best to stay calm. She knew it was irrational, but just the knowledge that she couldn't contact Jackson reinforced the idea that there was truth to Cheryl's story. She felt the panic in her chest expanding, and knew by Cheryl's grin widening that her worry was obvious. Lisa bit down hard on her lip. She had to do something, but what?

* * *

Caleb made his way through the dark club, nonchalantly observing his surroundings. The pounding bass of the music vibrated through his body, but he barely noticed. He had worked with Jackson often enough to know that his brother noticed pretty much everything and dismissed most of it without a second thought. If this plan was going to work, he had to maintain the delicate blend of observation and boredom.

His eye caught a familiar figure sitting a few tables to the left of where he walked. He gave a barely perceptible nod of acknowledgment to Ben, who sat with an unfamiliar man. Caleb deduced that the other two men were likely sitting somewhere to his right. Caleb had to tip his hat to Ben- Mark wasn't sitting with him, which meant that he was with Robert's other man. Ben had cleverly made sure that their allies were partnered up with their traitors, which made it easier to keep an eye on them.

Caleb's gaze finally fell on his target. Robert sat alone near the bar, staring intently at him. Caleb forced himself to shoot the other man a casual smirk, and took a seat across the small table.

"I heard an interesting rumor," Robert opened, lighting a cigarette. Apparently they were skipping the pleasantries. Caleb raised a lazy eyebrow, but said nothing. Robert laughed. "It's pretty ridiculous," he said, leaning forward. "Is Lisa Reisert really staying with your brother?"

Caleb shrugged, lighting a cigarette of his own. He leaned back in the chair. "Is that what Cheryl told you?" he asked, adopting a relaxed position. He drummed the fingers of his free hand on his thigh, fighting back an urge to press his cigarette to the other man's neck.

Robert laughed again, taking a drink from the half-full glass on the table. "I had you figured out all wrong, Jackie. I expected that bleeding heart to take in refugees, but you?" He shrugged, taking a drag of his cigarette. "But maybe she'll fuck you for it, so it's not all bad." He laughed. "Still. It's a little desperate." Caleb's jaw twitched, but he continued to appear disinterested.

"Fascinating observation," he remarked blandly, wondering why Robert was stalling like this. He narrowed his eyes, resting his free arm on the table. "But we're not here to talk about Lisa _or_ Caleb, are we?"

Robert's eyes widened in mock-confusion. "Oh?" he asked brightly. "What do _you_ want to talk about?" Caleb remained silent, trying to decide where to go next. Should he play Robert's game, or go for the throat? He wanted to find out Robert's motivations, but doubted that there was any point in asking.

"Let's talk about Cheryl," he replied, leaning on his arm. He noted with curiosity the quick change in Robert's facial expression before the other man reverted into a calm smugness. "Did I strike a nerve?" he asked.

"Where is she?" Robert asked seriously. Caleb leaned back again, suspicious. There was something odd about the manager's reaction, something almost familiar.

"Taken care of," he teased, well aware of the connotation of his response. When he saw the flash again, his eyes narrowed. He had seen almost that exact facial twitch before, back in Minnesota. He and Jackson had been sitting in the kitchen, and Caleb was reading the paper. Lisa had called and was on her way, and Caleb had been trying to figure out a way to break it to Jackson.

_Caleb set down the paper stared at his brother out of the corner of his eye. Jackson studied the sandwich in front of him, apparently debating whether or not to eat it. "Looks like Lisa Reisert got herself into more trouble," Caleb remarked, trying to appear casual._

_He watched Jackson's eyes widen slightly and his eyebrows raise as his jaw went slack. As quickly as the shock had come, Jackson replaced it with a hard expression, turning to face his brother. "What happened?" he asked, unable to mask his curiosity._

"_The feds don't believe her story," Caleb replied, folding his paper. "She's on the run."_

_Jackson's jaw clenched tightly, and he blinked hard. His expression quickly dissipated again as he rose to his feet. "That's her problem," he replied with a forced coldness before returning to his room._

Caleb took a deep drag of his cigarette. The only notable difference between the two men's reactions was that Robert didn't have the option of storming out. He shook his head in disbelief. So Robert had feelings for Cheryl. Could that have something to do with the big secret that Jackson and Lisa refused to tell him?

Caleb cursed to himself as he remembered where he was. Robert was eyeing him suspiciously. Thinking quickly, Caleb raised an eyebrow. "Fucking a member of your unit, Bobby?" he asked, throwing Robert's previous tone back in his face. "_That's_ a little desperate." Even as he said the words, Caleb hoped that his confusion and hurt weren't betraying him. A small part of him also hoped that he was wrong, that Robert's feelings were unrequited.

Robert violently stubbed out his cigarette and leaned forward. "Where _is_ she?" he demanded harshly, losing his composure. Caleb allowed the Jackson in him a small moment of triumph at breaking the other manager before he leaned forward, putting out his own cigarette.

"Dead," he responded coldly. Now that his suspicions were verified, he wanted so badly to twist the knife. "Painful and drawn-out. She –"

Caleb was cut off when Robert's fist connected squarely with his jaw. The hit wasn't all that hard, but Caleb made a show of allowing himself to be knocked out of his chair, kicking the table leg as he hit the carpet to draw more attention. Despite how badly he wanted to fight Robert himself, he would stick to the plan at all costs. It was the only way to ensure that the man and his accomplices ended up dead.

Robert was on him within seconds, grabbing him by the shirt of the collar. Sure enough, just as he landed another punch, one of the bouncers yanked him away. Caleb was pulled roughly to his feet and the two were quickly escorted out of the establishment. He kept his narrowed focused on Robert, who occasionally turned back to lunge toward him. Caleb couldn't help but notice that Robert seemed to be putting on just as much a show that he was. Was it also his plan to get out of the club?

Robert and Caleb were shoved hard out of the front door. Caleb started toward the lines of cars, pretending that he was planning to leave. Robert grabbed his arm from behind and leaned forward. "Let's stop fucking around and finish this," he hissed in Caleb's ear, the proximity of his hot breath making him want to cringe in distaste. Caleb slightly pulled away from the other man's face in disgust, still staring ahead.

"Are you going to do it yourself?" he responded under his breath as he yanked his arm from Robert's grip, "Or are you going to have your dogs jump me?"

Robert scoffed. "Don't you worry, pretty boy," he mocked with such familiarity that Caleb wondered if it was a frequently used title. "They're insurance."

Caleb felt a hand grip his left arm and glanced over to see that Ben had caught up with them. He clenched his jaw. He knew the plan, but wished he could have a chance to take out Robert himself. "Insurance," he repeating, scoffing. "I think you just don't have the balls to face me without your boys."

Robert said nothing as the three men reached the car. Ben briefly fell back to the rest of Robert's men, as Robert shoved Caleb inside the vehicle. Robert quickly followed Caleb into the backseat, and Ben soon slid behind the steering wheel. "The other guys are going to follow us," he informed Robert. "I figured they would be a little too punchy with him here-" he nodded in Caleb's direction "-and get in the way of our plans." The manager nodded, not taking his eyes off of Caleb.

Caleb allowed himself to glance at the second car, noting that the remaining three men had entered. He quickly turned to face the front, not wanting to give Robert a reason to look behind them.

Jackson shifted closer to the door as Mark slid in the seat next to him. He had told Ben to inform Mark that he was in the car just before they actually got in, in case Mark was planning on betraying them. He didn't want to give Mark time to tell Robert, but didn't want his surprise to give away Jackson before the other men could get in the car. As he felt the vehicle begin to move, he kept sat up in his seat, his knife already in hand. He quickly pressed it to the throat of the driver.

* * *

"I don't have time for this!" Lisa yelled into the phone. It hadn't taken her long to realize that she could probably get Jackson's phone number from Trudi, the woman whose number was on the note Jackson had given her. Unfortunately, Trudi was more suspicious that anything else and was questioning her. "I _told _you. I'm Lisa Reisert, and I _need_ Jackson's phone number- he's heading into a trap!"

She glanced at Cheryl, who was watching her with an odd expression of satisfaction. She didn't have time to think about it, because Trudi was responding. "What are you talking about?" she asked, obviously confused. Lisa kicked the armchair in frustration. Did Jackson really not tell her anything about what he was doing with Robert?

"He's with Robert," she explained through clenched teeth. "They're going to _kill_ him." When the other woman hesitated, Lisa grabbed one of the empty beer bottles and threw it against the wall. "Please!" she begged.

"Dramatic," Cheryl noted, but Lisa ignored her. In the back of her mind, she knew that she was being irrational and she had no logical reason to be in such a panic. Cheryl was probably just successfully messing with her head, but Lisa had a nagging feeling that there was something very wrong, and this feeling increased with every second that she was prevented from communicating with Jackson. She also knew that Jackson would mock her mercilessly for this later, but she just didn't care.

She heard Trudi sigh. "212-549-2305," she said slowly, and hung up. Lisa rapidly repeated the number over and over as she entered it into her phone. She quickly fired off a message to Jackson and dropped back onto the couch, glancing at the clock. It was almost 2:00. A shudder ripped through Lisa's body. What if she was already too late?

* * *

Jackson glanced out the window. He saw only dark buildings- it looked like some kind of warehouse district. His face remained unaffected, but it was making him nervous. He knew that they wouldn't be going anywhere populated, but there were many dark spaces to hide. Robert would be an idiot if they weren't close to their destination.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp tone indicating that he had received a new message. He sighed in frustration and debated taking his eyes from the other men. Knowing how few people had his number, he figured that it must be important, and fished the phone from his pocket. He flipped open the phone and checked the number. _Lisa?_ "It's a trap. C says 4 v 10 men. Ben OK. L."

Jackson glanced up and noticed that the car in front was starting to slow down, apparently ready to turn into a parking lot. _Cheryl_ told Lisa there were more waiting? It didn't make sense. Jackson knew that he didn't have time to question this warning, and he also had no time to inform Caleb. He shoved the phone in his pocket and jumped forward in his seat, pressing his blade to the driver's neck again. "Hit the car," he ordered harshly. The driver hesitated, but jammed his foot on the accelerator. It never ceased to amaze Jackson how many people followed commands when their lives were under immediate threat, even though it was obvious that they were going to die anyway. Through the years, he had learned that where death was concerned, logic rarely followed.

Jackson caught out of the corner of his eye a glint of metal. Instinctively, he quickly turned toward Mark and caught his elbow on the other man's arm. This caused Mark's arm to drop and the tip of a knife to slice along Jackson's side. Jackson gritted his teeth and swung at his seatmate, driving his knife across his throat. He quickly turned away as the spray of blood flew at him, and while doing so, grabbed the back of the driver's head and pushed it forward. He had mere seconds, but it felt like all the time he could possible need.

Jackson braced himself on the back of the headrest with his right arm as their car collided with one in front. He could tell by the sound that the impact of the airbag snapped the driver's neck and released the dead man. He heard gurgling coming from Mark and swung again, severing the second artery. He saw movement from the passenger seat, but didn't have time to react before the man lunged at him.

Caleb quickly did an inventory of his body parts. Nothing seemed broken, but his foot was wedged under the driver's seat. One wrong move could easily sprain it. He turned to inspect the car behind them, and saw movement in the backseat, but couldn't make out who it was or what was happening. The driver was slumped over, at least unconscious. Something was obviously very wrong. He heard a groan from next to him, and whipped his head around to see Robert grabbing his head. He had apparently struck it on the internal frame, and Caleb could see blood between his fingers.

He looked straight forward. Ben was doubled over, gasping for breath. _Must have hit his chest on the steering wheel_, Caleb noted. If so, he would be fine. He turned his attention back to Robert. He knew that it was on him to finish this, and help Jackson if necessary. Caleb let his hand drop between the door and seat, fishing around until he felt the handle of a knife that Ben had previously hidden.

He pulled the knife from its sheath, not taking his eyes off Robert. The manager stared at him, a look of panic in his eyes. Caleb saw him glance at Ben and figured that their weapons must be in the front seat. He took a deep breath and lunged forward, grabbing the other man by the hair and staring into his eyes.

"I just want you to know," he said, his voice steady, "I'm not Jackson. I'm the other one- the _bleeding heart_. She betrayed you, too." He let his eyes scan Robert's torso, briefly debating his next move. Without another thought, he drove his knife into Robert's chest, gritting his teeth as he felt the knife grind between the ribs and into his lung. He twisted the knife in the lung and pulled it out with effort, knowing immediately that he had his his target perfectly.

As the knife exited the wound, a spray of blood from the pulmonary artery followed. Caleb barely turned his head to avoid getting blood in his eyes and turned back to Robert, watching him fight for air with terrifying satisfaction. He cupped his hand in the area over the wound, and applied a hard pressure, knowing that Robert's lung was rapidly filling with blood. He continued to push down as Robert's struggles became weaker and weaker. He wanted to make Robert suffer, but he knew that he had to get to Jackson- a quick glance at the other car made it obvious that his brother was still inside. He looked into Robert's unfocused eyes one more time before bringing the knife down viciously, sinking the blade into his heart and tearing it across his flesh.

Caleb pulled the knife back, satisfied with the knowledge that there was less than a minute left in Robert's life. He looked over at Ben, who was staring at him from the front seat in shock and what almost looked like fear. Caleb quickly reached over and opened the door, shoving Robert out into the street and pulling the door shut again. He jumped out and rushed to the crumpled car behind, seeing an unfamiliar man inside swinging at who had to be Jackson.

Caleb ripped open the door and grabbed the man by the shirt collar, yanking him out and onto the street. As Jackson fished for his dropped knife, Caleb lifted one foot and brought it down hard on the man's throat, hearing the sickening crack of his trachea being crushed. He pulled his foot back and was about to bring it down again when Jackson pulled him away from the rasping man.

"It's done," Jackson insisted, tugging on Caleb's arm. Caleb glanced back at the man, whose eyes were rolling back in his head as his body convulsed on the pavement. His concentration was finally broken by another tug from Jackson, and he realized what he had done.

Jackson rushed toward the first car and hoisted Robert over his shoulder. If what Lisa had said was correct, there could be more men waiting nearby, and they didn't have time to lose. He tossed the body into the front seat of the second car, motioning for Caleb to throw the other man in the backseat. Ben pulled a gas can from the trunk of the first car and hurried over to the twins. He doused the bodies and car interior as Jackson pulled a matchbook from his pocket.

Making sure that other two men were clear of the vehicle, Jackson lit a match and tossed it through the open window. They briefly watched as the flames spread over the interior of the vehicle before hurrying to the first. Ben took his place behind the steering wheel and the brothers jumped in the back seat as Ben took off down the street.

* * *

Lisa poured rum into a plastic cup and filled the rest with Coke. She hated rum and Coke, but it was all Jeff had, and she needed it. She glanced at the clock- 2:10. Lisa fidgeted with the strings on her hoodie as she took a long swallow of the disgusting drink. Cheryl was being oddly quiet, and Lisa couldn't read her expression. She seemed to be deep in thought, maybe sad.

Lisa sighed and leaned back against the couch cushions. She found it strange, but she did care about Cheryl. She was a horrible person, but if it wasn't for her inexplicably-given information- which may or may not have been true- Jackson would be dead. Or he could be dead anyway. Lisa didn't know, but she still felt an odd sense of gratitude.

"Is it true?" She asked meekly, taking another sip. "Was there really a trap?" Cheryl raised her chin to meet Lisa's eyes and nodded slowly. "Why did you tell me?" There was no response. Lisa walked over to Cheryl and set the drink on the floor. She leaned over and loosened the restraints on Cheryl's hands. She gave the confused woman a small smile and handed her the glass in silent thanks.

Lisa pushed out her internal voice that screamed at her that it was insane to trust this woman and took a seat on the arm of the chair. Cheryl took a drink and passed the glass back to Lisa. "It was such a stupid plan," she admitted bitterly. "Take over the agency with about ten men?" Cheryl shook her head. "He should have been smarter than that."

Lisa nodded. "Maybe you hoped I would be able to contact Jackson? It's kind of...useless for him to get killed if the plan wasn't going to work anyway." She took another drink. "I mean, when I was trying to get the number from Trudi, you almost looked...happy."

Cheryl shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know why," she responded. "But I don't want Robert to die." Lisa watched as Cheryl absently touched her stomach and frowned.

"You love him?" she asked, but it was more of an observation. Cheryl gave a small nod. Lisa finished the drink and walked over to fill it up again. What a pair they made- both waiting to find out the fate of two men who were on opposite sides of the fight. But Cheryl loved Robert, whereas Lisa wasn't so sure that she _loved_ Jackson.

She took her seat on the arm again, handing Cheryl the full cup. It didn't escape her that technically, Cheryl shouldn't be drinking, but it was a moot point, wasn't it? Lisa bit down on her lip. She was starting to feel guilty, knowing that while she was waiting for a message from Jackson, Cheryl was facing losing her life, the life of the man she loved, and her own child. But she deserved it, didn't she?

A generic tone snapped Lisa out of her brooding. She pulled her phone from her pocket, knowing that it had to be Jackson. Sure enough, the message read: "It's finished. We're heading back." Lisa jumped in surprise when she felt the other woman lean against her. She was even more surprised to find herself putting an arm around her shoulders.

"Sorry," Lisa whispered, a lump in her throat. She knew she was being stupid, but she refused to believe that people were just evil. She might disagree with Cheryl's actions, but she was still a _person. _Lisa squeezed Cheryl's shoulder tightly as she felt the other woman's body begin to tremble with silent tears, feeling like a hypocrite. Here she was trying to soothe Cheryl and at the same time, she knew that the blonde was going to be dead within the week, and in her own place. She slid off the arm of the chair to share the seat with Cheryl, closing her eyes tightly as she felt hot tears streaming down her own cheeks.

* * *

Jackson drummed his fingertips on the door frame as Jeff pulled away from the burning car behind them. They had met with him and changed vehicles, destroying the old one in the process.

"Can you just drop me off at home?" Ben asked from the backseat. Jackson shook his head.

"I got a call from my guy," he replied without turning around. "Keefe is in Miami." He pursed his lips, thinking about the phone call he had received from Jonathan. Keefe's men had traced his phone to the dumpster where Caleb had abandoned it. Neither of them had any idea how the men had gotten ahold of the number.

"They here for me," he continued vaguely, "and they won't be here for long. We're going for him the day after tomorrow, well, tomorrow, so we need to plan right away." He furrowed his eyebrows, knowing that he would have to call Trudi later to have her get some of his guys down to Miami. As they were now, they wouldn't stand a chance.

"It's gonna be crowded," Jeff remarked, getting onto the freeway.

Ben clapped his hands in mock excitement. "A sleepover?" he cried sarcastically. "We can make s'mores and play truth or dare! But I don't have my jammies..."

"You can borrow mine," Jeff replied, playing Ben's game. "And we can tell scary stories!"

Jackson glanced at Jeff with amusement. "Have fun, girls," he commented flatly, and stared out the window again. He winced as the car drove over a pothole, pressing Caleb's t-shirt firmly against his side. They hadn't had the time to really look at his injury, but it seemed superficial.

Jeff had insisted that both Caleb and Jackson take off their bloody shirts and at least attempt to wipe the blood from their faces and hands before getting in his car. They had done their best, but blood never did come off skin very easily. As Jeff and Ben discussed Disney princess sleeping bags, Caleb remained silent in the backseat. He stared at his right hand, trying to rub off Robert's blood with his left thumb. He didn't know if it would ever really come off.

* * *

**So Caleb is little...intense.**

**R&R!**


	23. Chapter 22- outtake

**Okay, since it's taking me forever and a day to write chapter 23, I'm offering this tiny piece in the meantime. I started to write it as a opening for chapter 22, but decided that the chapter was already long enough and I didn't know how to connect it with the next scene. The next few chapters are going to continue on the heavy side, so I thought I might throw out something lighter. Enjoy!**

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When Jeff entered the house carrying boxes of pizza, Lisa had to grip the couch cushions to keep herself from attacking him. She reminded herself that he would drop the pizzas if she did so...but she would still eat them. Even though she knew that no one else could hear her thoughts, she still blushed at the image of herself on the ground, tearing through an Italian mess like some kind of madwoman.

She managed to restrain herself, remaining perfectly immobile with the exception of her eyes, which followed the boxes in Jeff's arms. _Oh God...Mario. _Jeff hadn't just gotten pizza. He had gotten pizza from the Holy Land. Lisa furrowed her eyebrows. _Can hunger cause insanity?_

"Oh for Christ..." Jeff mumbled, setting the pizzas on the table. "Jackson!" Lisa turned her head when the bedroom door opened and the two brothers walked out. She wasn't sure what to do. What she supposed to wait to be invited to eat? Was she supposed to just walk over and stuff her face? Was this some kind of torture?

"Sorry," Jackson muttered unconvincingly, walking into the kitchen.

"Oh, my ass," Jeff scoffed. "It smells like an ashtray in here. And get plates. And more beer."

Lisa rose to her feet and walked into the dining area, which was just another section of the living room. Jeff's house was almost smaller than her apartment.

"Aren't you going to yell at _me_? Why does he get all the shaming?" Caleb teased, grabbing a small stack of paper plates. Jackson snorted, walking toward the table with four bottles of beer wedged between his fingers.

"Get some real plates," he reprimanded, glancing at the plates in his brother's hand.

"You do realize you have lung cancer now, right?" Caleb mocked, following Jackson.

Lisa watched them in slight amusement. They were almost overlapping each other and both sounded so obnoxious. She could just imagine the two as kids, and pitied anyone who crossed their path.

"It's _my_ house," Jeff retorted, but it was obvious that he wasn't as upset as he pretended to be. "Show some respect."

"You're right," Jackson replied flatly, setting the bottles onto the table.

"We are horrible people," Caleb added, dropping the plates in the middle of the table. The brothers stared at Jeff, almost identical expressions of mocking remorse on their faces.

"You're both creepy," Jeff said, opening the lids on the boxes. Lisa drifted toward the table, still trying to act nonchalant about the promise of food. Jackson eyed her in amusement, pulling a lighter out of his pocket and popping the lid off of a bottle.

"Would you like to join us, Leese?" he asked sweetly, but Lisa knew that she was being fun of. She smiled in embarrassment and only nodded. She could only imagine how moronic she looked- like they really cared if she wasn't ladylike.

"Why thank you, Jackson," she responded just as sweetly, taking the seat next to him. "I _suppose_ I could eat. If I have to." Jackson winked, handing her the open bottle. _**He's**__ in a good mood..._

Jeff opened one of the pizza boxes and slid it toward Lisa. "I got one half-vegetarian in case you were Jewish," he offered.

"What a nice guy," Caleb mocked good-naturedly, popping the top off of his own bottle with Jackson's lighter.

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**Hope you enjoyed it. :) And although it's not updated yet, I'd like to give a big thanks to Clavis Salomonis for submitting a piece of art for the story! LOVE YOU!**


	24. A Life So Changed

**Now I feel like a dork. :P I hadn't even started chapter 23 when I posted the little "outtake", but pretty much immediately after posting it, I suddenly got a burst of inspiration and slammed my hands on the keyboard like a madwoman...and this happened. I've gone over it maaaaany times, and I keep finding little mistakes, so forgive any weird typos if I missed them, pretty please.**

**trudes193- **Thanks!

**EmpireAndAll- **You're not the only one thinking Lisa made a big mistake. We'll have to wait and see, won't we? :)

**KnoKayme- **:D

**Clavis Salomonis- **I will NEVER abbreviate your name. :) Reviews like yours and Pirate Gyrl's are making the work I put into this story worthwhile. It means a lot when people notice and appreciate the details. And I know I've said it before, but I LOVE the drawing you made for the story! Thanks again!

**Skitter-Experiment- **I think you are the first one to mention the Princess Bride reference, actually. Glad you liked it! And just so you know, your reply to my small preview was an influence on how this chapter turned out (as far as their fight goes). I think I added two more pages of details after I read it. :)

**Pirate Gyrl- **See my review to Clavis above. :) Yes, Caleb does not screw around when it comes to murder. Personally, if I had to be in a dark alley with Jackson or killer!Caleb, I'd take my chances with Jackson. :P

**NOTE: This chapter is much longer than usual, and it gets rather explicit near the end. Also, POV's change like crazy. I hope it doesn't get too confusing.**

* * *

**Chapter 23: A Life So Changed**

Jackson jumped out of the car before Jeff had even put it in park. He was tired of listening to Ben rant about his bipolar girlfriend and just wanted to get to the shower. He threw open the front door and walked into the living room, freezing when he saw the scene before him. He made eye contact with Lisa, whose eyes were red and glassy. Concern flickered across his eyes as it registered that she had been crying. An empty bottle of Captain caught his eye. So she was drinking...and not alone. His stare rested on Cheryl. Her hands were not bound. Lisa was sitting right next to her. Jackson raised an eyebrow.

"Girls' night in?" he asked coldly, not looking at Lisa. He _couldn't_ look at her- she knew what Cheryl was capable of, and she had not only half-released her, she had gotten herself drunk in the meantime? Jackson didn't even want to think of what could have happened if they had been away longer than they had.

Jackson sensed another man coming to a stop behind him, and knew instinctively that it was Caleb. "I love it when we all get along," his brother muttered dryly. For their part, the two women stared silently at the brothers. Lisa's eyes were wide and her jaw was slightly dropped, either in horror from the blood on their faces or the fear from fact that she had been caught. Or maybe she was aroused by the shirtless brothers. Jackson couldn't tell what she was thinking, and he wasn't sure that he really cared. All he could see were Cheryl's bare wrists, and he felt bile rising in the back of his throat.

Jackson barely noticed the other two men walk in behind him, their conversation halting. He advanced toward Lisa, who shot to her feet unsteadily. "Jackson-" she got out before he grabbed her by the arm, roughly dragging her toward Jeff's bedroom. Lisa struggled to stay on her feet, protesting the entire distance. She stumbled into the room, almost falling on her face as Jackson slammed the door shut behind them.

"Don't you _ever_ manhandle me!" she snapped, whipping around to face him. She slapped him across the face, but unfortunately, she used her sprained wrist and ended up crying out in pain, cradling the injured limb.

Ben turned to the closed door when he heard Lisa cry out. "Is he going to kill her?" he asked lightly, but there was a genuine question under the levity.

"Probably not," Caleb replied, matching Ben's tone as he knelt in front of his wife. He took her hands in his, fingering the angry lacerations that the cords had left on her wrists. "Why didn't you just talk to me?" he asked softly, raising his eyes to meet hers. He clenched his jaw, swallowing hard as he studied her broken face and puffy eyes. Cheryl knitted her eyebrows, but she didn't respond. "You could have just left me, you know."

Ben turned to face Jeff and nodded in the direction of the kitchen awkwardly. The two men quickly exited, giving Cheryl and Caleb what little privacy that they could.

Cheryl turned her wrists in Caleb's hands to run her fingers along the rusty lines of dried blood staining the creases of his palms. "Did _you_ kill him?" she asked. Caleb nodded, closing his hands around Cheryl's. He squeezed tightly, staring into her eyes.

"Why didn't you just leave me for him?" he asked again, desperate for some kind of answer. His insides were pulling him in every direction- he loved her, he hated her, and he had no idea who she even was. All he wanted was some sense in the chaos. Cheryl opened her mouth, her features twisted in conflict, but she quickly reigned in her emotions and became stone-faced.

"You were a great cover," she replied coldly. Caleb snapped back to reality- the moment was over. He released Cheryl's hands and reached for the cords. As Caleb roughly wrapped the cords around her hands again, pulling them even more tightly than before, Cheryl let her head drop onto the back of the chair with a silent sigh. She closed her eyes tightly when Caleb rose to his feet and quickly walked away from her. She had a plan, and she was going to see it through to the end.

Jackson leaned against the door as Lisa dropped onto the bed, still cradling her arm. "Feel better?" he mocked.

Lisa shot daggers at him. "Don't talk to me like that," she retorted. "Or are you..._incapable_ of talking like a human being?"

Jackson tilted his head to the side, slight amusement on his features. "Since when are you a mean drunk?" he asked, refusing to show how her question cut him.

Lisa scoffed. "I'm not drunk," she insisted, but her there was a slur in her words. "Cheryl drank more than I did." She turned her wrist carefully, wincing. "I'm just sick of you trying to manage me. You aren't going to make me feel bad with your little games." Jackson rolled his eyes. What _wasn't_ she sick and/or tired of lately?

"What were you _thinking_?" he hissed, getting even more frustrated. Why couldn't she see that she was wrong, and he was right? He should be able to gain control with ease, but she was being so stubborn. Why didn't she understand that life wasn't a sweet little story where everything ended happily? At some point, a person has to choose a side and stick with it.

"She saved your life!" Lisa spat, stomping one foot on the carpet. She glanced at the door behind Jackson, her eyes narrowed. "She didn't have to tell me that stuff, you know. She could have let you all die."

Jackson was unmoved. "She had ulterior motives," he insisted. "This is what we _do_, Leese." He couldn't explain _why_ Cheryl had told Lisa about Robert's plan, but then he didn't really understand a majority of her actions lately. She could be medically insane for all he knew.

"Did it ever occur to you that _maybe_ it's just that you're still her friend and Caleb is still her husband?" Lisa demanded, her words a quick jumble. She stood and paced around the room, glancing at the door every once in a while.

Jackson dropped his head back against the door in frustration. _Of all the stupid __shit_...He could not believe that they were even having this conversation. As Lisa continued to pace, Jackson shifted his weight, getting ready for her to rush him. There was something dangerous in the way she held herself. "Not _everything_ is black and white," she told him.

Jackson shook his head. "Sometimes it is. She wouldn't plot to kill Caleb and then want to save him. And she wouldn't have done this if we were _friends_." He spat out the word as though it were some kind of insult. It was incredible how easily Cheryl had wrapped Lisa around her finger. He wouldn't have been surprised if Lisa announced that she wanted to go to the spa with her, let alone not kill her anymore.

"You're such a..." Lisa trailed off with a sigh, shaking her head. She turned to face Jackson head-on. "Can I leave now?" she asked, and it was obvious that she had no remorse for her actions. She thought Cheryl could actually be _redeemed_, and she was actually angry at Jackson for disagreeing. _Unbelievable. _He pursed his lips and then relaxed again, drumming the fingers of his free hand against the door. She wasn't cut out for this. It was obvious what he had to do.

He nodded, but didn't move from the doorway. "You're going to New York today," he informed her. Lisa did a double take and started to argue. "Don't bother," Jackson insisted, waving his free hand to cut her off. "I can't trust you to finish this, and I don't need you in my way."

"What about my family?" Lisa cried, shifting quickly from one foot to the other. Her hands balled up into fists. Jackson stood his ground.

"I'm not going through all that work only to have you back down in the end," he replied firmly. "Especially when I have _two_ _days_ to finish Keefe. I don't need you fucking up everything." He braced himself as Lisa came flying at him and quickly sidestepped, spinning to pin her to the door with one arm, leaning his weight against her to keep her subdued. He winced as fire shot up his side and pressed the cloth even more tightly with his free hand.

Jackson studied the angry woman pressed up against him. It wasn't personal- he was doing this for her own good, as well as his own. He wanted to calm her, make her feel better, but there was no way to do so when he was the source of her anger. He knew that he was right, that there was too good of a chance that she would not be able to finish the job, but the regret still nagged at him.

For the first time, he actually felt completely trapped in his own life. He wanted to say forget Keefe, forget the feds, and just be with her like the normal person that he didn't know how to be. For the first time, he genuinely regretted the entirety of the person he was. He had had his doubts about certain aspects, but nothing like this. He didn't even _want_ to kill Keefe anymore- it was just something he had to do.

He hated that he loved how she was standing up to him. He should be angry that she was being defiant and making things even more difficult for him, but even as she sent pain through his body with her struggling, he loved her more for it. This realization only served to reinforce his decision. He couldn't let her become jaded like he was- death could not be a normal occurrence to her. Jackson had to protect her from him. He couldn't avoid the situation anymore or waffle over what to do. He now knew that he loved Lisa, and had to send her away for both their sakes. He may be trapped, but there was no reason to put her in the same position anymore.

"It's done," he murmured, bowing his head. "I'm sorry." He quickly dropped a kiss on her forehead and gently pushed her from the door, walking out of the bedroom. Thankfully, Lisa didn't follow him, but as he shut the door behind him, Jackson could hear her start to cry. He ran a hand through his hair and forced a straight face as he dropped down on the couch, facing Cheryl.

"Looks like we're have to find a new way to kill you," he remarked as he leaned back against the couch cushions, exhausted. He let his head drop back and groaned in pain. His entire body hurt from lack of sleep and the previous events, and now his head was pounding. "Lisa is leaving."

"Shame," came the reply, and Jackson noted that she didn't sound any better off than he did. He grunted in response, pinching the bridge of his nose. He hissed softly as he felt Ben drop onto the couch near him, jostling his body.

"Don't get blood on my couch," Jeff scolded half-heartedly, placing a can of Coke in Jackson's hand. Jackson didn't reply. Part of him was trying to forge ahead, make him sit up and carry on like he normally would, but there was an overwhelming exhaustion preventing him. He kept reminding himself that he was making the right choice, but sending Lisa away was one of the last things he wanted to do.

How fitting that when he realized that he loved her was also when he knew that he couldn't be with her. In reality, he had known it all along, but had been stupidly content to pretend that there was a chance. He had been weak. He just wanted to sleep now, and wake up when she was safely on a plane and things were easier...but could he ever go back? He would eventually move on from Lisa, but in the meantime, she had torn down his defenses and led to him being in uncharted waters with both his brother _and_ himself. Truths that had been hidden for years were shooting to the surface, and it was just one more thing stealing his energy.

Jackson rubbed his eyelids roughly. He knew that he was a horrible brother. He had dragged Caleb back into this mess that he had put so much work into putting behind him. Jackson wasn't _that_ blind- he saw the look in his brother's eyes back on that road. There was nothing but ice. It was the first time in many years that Jackson really felt as though he was looking in a mirror.

Images flashed in Jackson's dark mind, a forgotten dream. Caleb next to him, blood pouring out of his chest and mouth, and Lisa draped over him, her throat slashed and her blood spilling onto his chest. A knife in his own chest. Jackson's throat tightened. He was in a free fall into hell and was pulling the two people he loved most down with him. He was a sinner beyond redemption, but maybe he could do something to save them.

He felt a burst of energy and sat up, his eyes opening. He turned to Ben, who was patiently waiting for some kind of plan. "You're going to work tech and logistics," he ordered, ignoring the wide-eyed surprise on other man's face. "Make sure we stay off the security cameras, figure out the basics of the hotel, and get the supplies we need." He motioned to Jeff. "He can help you if you need it."

"_Logistics?_" Ben repeated in disbelief, which was no surprise to Jackson. He was well aware that Ben was second only to Caleb when it came to guns, but Jackson wasn't about to put him in the offense. It would be a waste. "So is Caleb going with you to Keefe's room?" he asked, still incredulous.

Jackson shook his head. "Caleb is going back to Minnesota," he replied firmly. He knew that he could keep Caleb around in case of injuries, but he doubted that he would be of any help. As far as he was concerned, no one who went up to that room was getting out alive. Having Ben work on the securities was a formality to maintain some façade of normalcy.

If he appeared to be unconcerned with detection, it would be obvious to everyone that this was a suicide mission, which it definitely was. He knew enough about security to know that Keefe's room would be heavily guarded and that they just didn't have the manpower to do anything other than get to the room and make sure that Keefe was dead before falling themselves. And on the off chance that they _did_ make it out alive, of course he didn't want any record of their identities.

"So who _is_ going to the room?" Ben asked skeptically. Jackson finally took a drink from his soda and cringed. He hated soda, but he needed the caffeine.

"I'm going to call Trudi and have her send over some trainees," he explained. "My people are on other jobs right now, so I can't get them here in time." It wasn't a complete lie. _Most _of Jackson's team was off on missions, but he did have two still in New York. Just as it was with Ben, though, he wasn't going to risk them getting killed. They were too useful.

"So...cannon fodder," Ben corrected, apparently not fooled by Jackson's plan. "Sheer brilliance."

Jackson didn't reply. He stared across at Cheryl, who was eying him quizzically. Was he really that transparent? He reminded himself that wasn't being pathetic- he was being realistic. There was no way for them to get in and out without losing most of their people. They would have to get to Keefe through a doorway, and being on the offensive when it came to doors was a serious disadvantage- not to mention that on the other side of that door were an unknown number of highly trained bodyguards.

They couldn't bring a large group of people, for two reasons. First, it wouldn't help the doorway situation, and two, there was no way to covertly go through a hotel in the middle of the night with more than three people, four at most. It was almost too much to hope for to even get to Keefe, but that was Jackson's goal. He wasn't concerned with getting out, because it seemed so unlikely.

Lisa curled up against the wall, squeezing her stomach. She was all cried out, and her insides were churning. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to ride out her waves of nausea. She was hesitant to go to the bathroom because she could hear the shower running. Finally, it came down to barging in on whomever was in the shower or throwing up all over Jeff's carpet, so Lisa sprang to her feet and ran to the bathroom.

"Sorry!" she called out as she entered before kneeling in front of the toilet.

"You okay?" she heard either one of the twins—probably Caleb—ask.

"No," she moaned, and then emptied her stomach into the toilet. "Which one are you?" she asked weakly before throwing up again.

"The better looking one," came the reply. Lisa smiled faintly. It _was_ Caleb._ Thank God._ She didn't know if she could deal with talking to Jackson at that moment. She knew full well that when he said he was sending her to New York, it meant that he had no intentions of seeing her anymore. She would be hidden away in some shitbox apartment with a fake name and some job the agency got for her, and that would be it. She could never live her own life. What had seemed like a minor irritation earlier in the day was now making her want to pull out her hair.

Lisa pulled herself to her feet and looked at the sink. No glass...what the hell was wrong with Jeff? She leaned down to drink directly from the tap when the door opened again. Lisa jumped up, smacking her cheek on the faucet. "God_damn _it," she hissed and turned around to see a familiar face.

"Alex?" she asked, confused. What was her neighbor doing here?

He smiled awkwardly, handing her a glass of water. "Call me Ben," he replied. Lisa raised her eyebrows, rinsing her mouth with the water before turning around to spit into the sink. _Alex_ was in the agency? He had been lying to her this whole time? She rested her elbows on the counter top and dropped her face into her palms. Was this all really happening to _her_?

"So are we having a party in here now?" Caleb called, turning off the shower.

"Anywhere that you're naked is the place to be," Ben replied. Lisa shook her head in her hands and heard Caleb pull back the shower curtain.

"You told me you were in computers," she said softly, confused. What were the odds that _he _was involved with Jackson? And furthermore, why did _Jackson_ tail her if he already had an in?

Ben reached around, handing her a second glass. "I am. It's my cover," he told her.

"You two know each other?" Caleb asked, sitting on the edge of the tub, a towel wrapped securely around his waist. "What happened to your face?" he asked Lisa, frowning. She gestured absently toward the faucet.

"I hit it," she replied, lowering the lid on the toilet and taking a seat. Now that Caleb was done with the shower, she reached back and flushed.

"She lives below me," Ben explained, leaning against the bathroom wall. Lisa nodded.

"We do laundry together sometimes," she elaborated, distracted. This new development was just one more _thing_ for her to deal with. "Why did Jackson follow me if we're already friends?"

Ben shrugged. "I didn't tell him," he replied. "And we aren't really _friends_," he reminded her, which was true. They were barely on a first name basis, or was it a false name basis? Lisa groaned and rested her elbows on her knees.

"Can't trust anyone," she muttered bitterly. It _did _explain why she hadn't seen him for the two months prior to her flight, but that was little consolation.

"Aw, that's not fair," Ben replied, feigning offense. "You can trust Cal."

"Oh, shut up," Lisa replied angrily. "You could have _warned_ me that this was going to happen." Her head snapped up and she glared at Ben. "Wait- did you give me up? Did you offer me as an 'in' at the hotel?"

Ben held up both hands in self-defense. "Calm down," he replied, "Of course I wasn't going to warn you- don't be stupid. And no, I just said that I didn't tell them I knew you. How exactly would I 'give you up' without sharing _that _detail?"

Lisa said nothing, but continued to glare at him. He could have prevented _everything_- her dad's death, her empty future, the bullet in her arm- all of it. "It was your turn to bring the detergent," she pointed out bitterly. "I used all mine up and had to buy more." She knew she was being ridiculous, but Ben's poorly-hidden grin just angered her further.

"You would have had to buy more eventually anyway," he replied good-naturedly, "You only had a little left."

A hand on her knee caught Lisa's attention before she could respond. "What's really wrong, Lisa?" Caleb asked, noting her puffy eyes. "And don't say you're pissed about having to buy more detergent."

"Besides this jerk stabbing me in the back, Jackson's sending me to New York," she responded flatly, playing with the bandage around her wrist. "He's not going to help me. He thinks I'm a burden."

"Help you with what?" Ben asked, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. Lisa didn't respond- she didn't really feel like talking to him at that moment.

"We were going to stage her death and trade in Cheryl," Caleb replied, not taking his eyes from her.

Lisa shook her head. "I don't _want_ to go live some random person and work with the agency." She kept the fact that she wanted to stay with Jackson to herself. She hated that he was pushing her away because she showed Cheryl kindness. And he was wrong- she _would_ go through with it- that was why she was nice to Cheryl in the first place. But of course he refused to listen to her- he was so _stubborn_.

"Maybe you should go live with Cal," Ben offered, grinning at his friend. Caleb shrugged, slicking back his dripping hair.

"I still have to deal with getting a divorce," he replied. "It might be hard to convince people that Cheryl just up and left if I have another woman living there." He yawned. "But it would be fine, if you want. And if you can cook." He laughed humorlessly. "_And_ if we make it through this alive."

Ben furrowed his brows. "We?" he asked, confused. "Jack said you're going home."

Caleb and Lisa turned to face Ben, both frowning. "He said _what_?" Caleb asked incredulously.

"He's sending Caleb away too?" Lisa asked simultaneously, resting her chin in her palms. "So it's you two against Keefe and his men?"

Ben nodded and leaned forward, his face like stone. Caleb followed suit, glancing at Lisa with an expression of disbelief. "I think he's lost it," Ben said, his voice barely above a whisper. "He's having me do _prep _and sending for _trainees._"

Caleb gripped his own knee, his knuckles white. "Is he _trying_ to get himself killed?" he hissed. Lisa paled.

"He wouldn't do that, would he?" she asked Caleb. "He's not suicidal." Caleb shook his head.

"No," he replied, running a hand through his still-dripping hair. "He would never do something like this just to kill himself- he's not that gutless."

Ben sighed and stood to refill one of Lisa's cups. "I don't think it's like _that_," he said, to Caleb, filling the cup. "The odds are against us, so I think he's just being pessimistic. That's why he's sending you away." He handed the water to Lisa and sat down again. "I know it's a dangerous mission, but it seems with both you and me there that we would stand a pretty good chance of getting out of there. _But,_" he added carefully, "he doesn't seem too concerned with the fact that he'll be going in."

"Well, we're never going to be able to talk sense into him," Caleb remarked, dropping his forehead into his hands in defeat. Lisa scowled.

"We still have to do _something_," she insisted, but even as she said it, she had no idea what that something would be. Ben nodded in agreement.

"I have an idea," he told the two as the bathroom door opened. The three conspirators looked up to see Jackson standing in the doorway, an entertained grin on his face.

"This looks like fun," he remarked, staring at his brother. Lisa dropped her gaze to the linoleum, her anger rising again. Why wouldn't he let any of them help? Why did he insist on being alone? She had thought that they were getting somewhere, that he was opening up to her, but no- he slammed the door shut without warning and was sending her on her way.

She was getting whiplash from Jackson's emotions. He would hold everything in and then have a massive breakdown only to close right up again. How many times now had he "given in" to her, only to start over again? His outburst in the car that first day, him kissing her in the airport, and his breakdown only a few hours prior when she really started to feel like the pieces were starting to fall into place all flashed through her mind. She was so tired of it, but it didn't mean that she was ready to give up.

"Leese?" she glanced up when she heard Jackson say her name as though he had been trying to get her attention for a while. She noticed that Ben had already left. She bit her bottom lip when she realized that Caleb was stitching Jackson's side. How had she never noticed that long cut before? She also noticed bruising on Jackson's face that didn't seem to have been there before, or maybe she just hadn't seen it.

Lisa's eyes narrowed, her anger intensifying. How could he have so little regard for his own safety? She shook her head, realizing that he was still waiting for some kind of response. "What?" she snapped, staring at the injury. Jackson sighed.

"Jeff will be taking you and Caleb to the airport in about fifteen minutes, so get your things together," he replied, sounding oddly defeated. Lisa frowned, pressing her lips together. His emotions were so erratic- something was definitely wrong. "And don't say you're not leaving," Jackson continued as she opened her mouth, anticipating her argument.

"I can help," she insisted, irritated that her words came out in a sulky tone. "Stop pushing me away."

Jackson shook his head. "I don't want you here," he replied coldly. Lisa made eye contact with Caleb, whose eyebrows were raised in bemusement.

"Maybe I don't care what you want," she responded, hoping Caleb would back her up. To her dismay, he broke eye contact and continued to stitch his brother. _Coward._

"Leese, you're _not_ staying here," Jackson snapped, clenching his jaw. "End of story."

Lisa rose to her feet and stared Jackson in the eye, seething. "You're pathetic," she said, her voice like ice. She saw Jackson's eyes twitch and smirked, satisfied. She had hit her target. She pushed him aside with her shoulder and made her way out of the bathroom, not giving him a second glance.

She flopped down on the couch next to Ben, crossing one leg over the other. "Something's wrong with him," she said quietly. "He's being really distant."

Ben took a drink of Coke. "As opposed to the open and friendly Jackson?" he replied sarcastically. Lisa sighed. She wanted to tell Ben off, to explain to him that there _was_ another side of Jackson that she had been seeing plenty of in the last few days, but their relationship was none of his business.

She started to feel guilty about what she had said. It had been momentarily gratifying, but unless whatever plan Ben was thinking of worked, it would likely be the last thing that she would ever say to him. "We have to help him," she whispered, refusing to just give up on him. Ben nodded, taking another drink.

"We will," he replied softly, offering her the can. Lisa shook her head, pressing further into the couch. She couldn't get rid of the image of Jackson lying on the floor of her dad's entry way, his eyes glazing over. She had been a little relieved at the time, as well as sad that it had come to that, but now the idea of Jackson on the floor with bullet holes scattered across his body made Lisa's stomach churn again. They had come too far together- she couldn't just let him die.

Caleb glanced up at his brother as he finished his last stitch. "What the hell are you thinking?" he finally asked, walking to the sink to wash his hands. "And don't play innocent with me- you know what I'm talking about."

"And _you _know damn well what I'm doing," Jackson replied, covering the new stitching with gauze. "You're the one who said you were helping me with Robert and then going home."

Caleb nodded, dropping his towel as he reached for a pair of boxers. "Things change," he responded calmly as he watched his brother tape the gauze through the mirror. "Think about what you're asking me to do." Jackson tossed the tape back into Caleb's bag and looked up, making eye contact with his brother's reflection.

"Live?" he asked gravely. "I've been planning jobs like this for years, Caleb- it's a death trap. What would make you think that I'd bring you with me?"

Caleb turned to face Jackson and pulled on a pair of jeans. He had meant what he had said to Lisa, but he was still going to try to change Jackson's mind. "Maybe not, but it definitely is if you keep Ben on the sidelines and leave me behind. You know we can help."

Jackson shook his head. "Keefe will have more men than us. Do you really think he won't expect some kind of attack? We're going to have to come at him from a hallway- no cover. It doesn't matter how good you are at shooting, unless you've discovered how to become bulletproof and you've been hiding it from me."

Caleb leaned back against the counter top, bracing himself with his hands. "So that's it?" he asked, frowning. "You're just going to run in there and get yourself killed?" Jackson was supposed to be smarter than this.

"Don't look at me like that," Jackson snapped defensively. "I _have_ to go to make up for failing in the first place." He pulled off his jeans, tossing them near Caleb's. "I'm trying to do the right thing," he insisted. "Why can't you see that?" Caleb rolled his neck, trying to relieve his tension. He understood where Jackson was coming from, and knew that it was useless to argue anymore.

As far as Jackson was concerned, Caleb had made his decision years ago when he had left the agency. But as far as _Caleb_ was concerned, his place was now with his brother. He couldn't very well go have a "normal" life now, not when he knew the gritty details of the situation. He recalled his comments the previous evening, about how he wanted them to have each others' backs. He had no intentions of going back on his proposal. He might not be able to convince Jackson, but Jackson did not have the final word. They were going to have to go behind his back, and Caleb had an idea.

"Fine," he conceded, feigning defeat. "If you're determined to get yourself killed, there's nothing I can do about it." Jackson eyed him suspiciously, but Caleb kept his expression neutral. He stepped toward Jackson, and gave him a careful hug. "Just try to get out alive, alright?"

Jackson nodded slowly, still regarding Caleb with suspicion. "Is that it?" he asked incredulously.

Caleb shrugged. "You said you won't change your mind, so why waste my energy trying?" he didn't have to feign the bitterness in his voice- he really was disappointed that it had come to this. "Good luck," he said briskly, pulling on a t-shirt as he exited the bathroom.

Lisa's glanced at Caleb as he entered the room. She looked for any sign that he had gotten through to Jackson, but he was avoiding eye contact. He got on his knees in front of the couch, gathering his guns. She wanted to talk to him about what was happening, but didn't feel comfortable talking in front of Ben and Jeff. She glanced back at the bathroom door, her regret still growing exponentially.

Lisa wordlessly got to her feet and headed for the bathroom, ignoring Caleb as he called for her. She didn't care if it was an invasion- she _had_ to tell him everything, just in case. She opened the door, closing it quietly behind her.

"Jackson?" she asked tentatively, approaching the shower.

There was a long pause before Jackson finally answered. "What?" he asked, sounding justifiably irritated.

"I want to talk," Lisa replied shyly. She wrung her hands, her heart pounding in her throat.

Jackson sighed heavily. "Now?" he snapped. Lisa gritted her teeth and approached the shower, ripping open the curtain.

"Yes, now!" she spat back as Jackson jumped back in surprise with a cry of protest. "When else? Are you going to call me up when I'm in New York? Are we going to get together and have _lunch_?" Lisa scowled at Jackson. He opened his mouth to reply, but she talked right over him. "There's obviously something going on that you're not telling me, and I don't know why you're suddenly treating me like some kind of stranger, but I _hate it_."

"Leese-"

"No, shut up!" Lisa continued. "I'm tired of you const-"

"And _I'm_ tired of you barging in where you're not wanted!" Jackson yelled back. "What is so goddamn hard to understand about _I don't want you here_?" he spat, emphasizing every word.

"But you're lying to me!" Lisa cried, pointing her finger in Jackson's face. "There's something that you're not telling me. You can't shut me out anymore, and you're not going to push me away by acting like a jerk." Her voice continued to rise, and angry tears formed in her eyes. "We've been through too much together, and I'm _not _a stranger, and..." she trailed off as sobs started to cover her words. "...and you're just going to go off and _die_, and..." She stomped her foot on the linoleum. "...and I _love_ you, and I don't want to leave you like this, and you can _trust me_-"

She was abruptly cut off by Jackson as he leaned forward and grabbed her arms, lifting her roughly over the tub's edge and into the shower. He slammed his mouth roughly against hers, his fingers gripping her short hair and yanking her head back.

Lisa was suddenly very aware of her surroundings as the hot water soaked through her clothes and she gripped Jackson's wet shoulders tightly. She forgot herself just as quickly, moaning in arousal as she felt Jackson's hands slip under her soaked shirt and yank it over her head, the stitches in the clothing snapping. He reached back and pulled the curtain shut before turning back to make quick work of Lisa's bra.

Lisa sank into the next kiss, melting into Jackson's arms. She was overwhelmed by his intensity and her knees would probably fail her if Jackson released her from his tight grip. She cried out as Jackson shoved her roughly against the tiled wall, but the noise was smothered by his mouth covering hers again. She bucked her hips at the feeling of Jackson's fingers attacking the button and zipper of her jeans. He crouched down to remove the jeans and her panties, running one hand along her inner thigh as she tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled hard to bring him back up.

She missed his kisses as though they were her oxygen, and leaned forward to kiss him again, gripping his bottom lip with her teeth to pull him along as he pushed her back up against the wall. She gasped sharply when she felt his fingers enter her, a shudder ripping through her body as he pressed his palm against her clit. Every sensation was heightened by their respective anger and her instinctive fear of being in this position with a man. He made her feel powerless, and she couldn't get enough of it.

She felt his hands graze the back of her thighs and grabbed his shoulders, bracing herself. He hesitated, and she looked at him, squinting through the water pouring down her face. He nodded sharply and effortlessly lifted her into the air.

"I'm no good for you," she heard him murmur bitterly into her ear before he entered her. Lisa winced in pain- it had been a while, and Jackson definitely wasn't taking his time. She bit down on her bottom lip as she felt herself adjust to the rhythm, wrapping her legs around his waist.

"I don't care," she gasped back as Jackson thrust deeply into her. She dug her nails into his shoulder blades, her toes curling at the delicious sensations he was causing to rush through her. "You don't get to be alone anymore." Jackson grabbed her arms and held them over her head with one hand, causing a jolt of pain to rush through Lisa's body, enhancing the pleasure. She arched her back, pressing her head against the shower tile. "It's not up to you."

Jackson grunted in response, his pace quickening. Lisa yanked one arm free and grabbed the back of his head, pulling him into another hard kiss. "You're such a pain in my ass," Jackson murmured against her lips, squeezing the soft skin behind her thighs. He shifted his angle slightly, and Lisa could only nod in response, exhaling sharply with every thrust. It was becoming almost too overwhelming- her body was already screaming for release.

She leaned forward, tugging his ear with her teeth. "Come with me," she hissed, feeling herself begin to tense around him. Jackson responded to her words with a feral groan and buried himself in deeper. He began to thrust harder, and Lisa knew she only had a few seconds left. Her grip around his waist tightened and she yanked back hard on his hair as waves of ecstasy ripped through her body, and she could feel Jackson shudder against her as he came inside her with a guttural moan.

"You wouldn't want it to be easy," Lisa murmured, dropping her head onto Jackson's shoulder. Jackson braced himself against the wall above Lisa's head, letting his weight hold the two in place. "Please don't send me away."

"I have to," he replied sadly, his other hand stroking her thigh softly. "I love you, and I can't ruin you like this anymore." Lisa curled her fingers in his hair, the hot water washing away the tears forming in her eyes.

"Please," she whispered one last time, and whimpered softly as she felt Jackson pull out, lowing her to her feet again.

"Try to understand," he said, taking a step back from her. "I _have_ to do this." Lisa nodded. Caleb was right- she wasn't going to change his mind. She pulled back the curtain, glancing at her wet clothes strewn in the tub. Jackson nodded toward dry clothes folded on top of the toilet lid. "Take those," he said, leaning forward one more time to place a soft kiss on Lisa's lips. She did so, and glanced at herself in the mirror. _**Now**__ I look like a boy_, she mused, rubbing her hair with a towel.

She turned back to Jackson, staring defiantly. "I'll go for now," she conceded, "But don't think you can get rid of me." She played with the hem of the t-shirt. "It's too late to protect me now. I'm in this with you." She left the bathroom, praying that she could back up her words with actions.

Lisa found Ben and Caleb sitting on the front steps, smoking. She dropped next to Caleb with a heavy sigh and glanced at him. He gave her a knowing look and offered her the cigarette. "Looks like you need it," he murmured as Lisa hesitantly took the cigarette from his hand. She had tried smoking when she was young like most teenagers do, but never developed the habit. She actually used to find it to be pretty disgusting, but found that she was getting used to the smell.

Lisa gave Caleb a small smile of thanks and took a short drag of the cigarette, letting the smoke burn her lungs. She suppressed a cough and glanced at Ben, who was turned around, staring at her awkwardly. No one seemed to know what to say. "We have a plan, right?" she asked Caleb, who nodded. Lisa sighed in relief and leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder as she took another drag. Ben relaxed again, leaning back on his elbows, his shoulder resting below Lisa's knee.

Lisa pondered her situation with a sense of disbelief. A few weeks ago, she was a people-pleasing hotel manager who was happiest in solitude, and now here she was, cigarette in hand, sitting comfortably with two killers after having had...unorthodox sex with a man who had previously tried to kill _her_. She had committed identity fraud and helped to kill two assassins. She was being handed the chance to return to some kind of normalcy, but instead was willingly going to participate in the assassination of a government official. She passed the cigarette back to Caleb and sighed deeply. There was no way of going back to her "good" self anymore. The three killers sat in silence, watching the smoke curl in the air that was a pale purple with the light of the rising sun.

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**So...how was it?**


	25. My Lover's Gone

**My darling reviewers- I am SO SORRY that I didn't send previews. I just wrote this chapter too quickly and couldn't wait to post it (and I'm already starting 25). I'll try to make it up to you for the big quarter chapter. :)**

**Now that Lisa and Jackson got their freak on, they will unfortunately be parted for the next few chapters. I'll try to keep the pining to a tolerable level, but don't expect interaction for a while.**

**trudes193- **Oh, they will kick some ass. And Lisa will play her part.

**Skitter-Experiment-** Glad you liked it. :) This is why reviews are important to me.

**EmpireAndAll-** I know. :P I loved the "juice mistake"! Don't worry- I have plans for all my characters! :D

**KnoKnayme- **Why thank you. :) It was my first shower scene, so I'm glad you liked it.

**Pirate Gyrl- **You're right- he definitely didn't think that one through. And I'm glad you agree- they couldn't have had sweet sex...it kind of HAD to be intense. You're also right about Jackson. I hope I made it clear that he's not just some emo, but he is definitely heading toward a willing end for himself (as far as he knows...we'll have to see what our trio can pull off). Don't worry- I have plans for Cheryl very soon.

**michellelau97- **Oh my goodness- there's plenty more. I'm surprising myself at how little I get accomplished in each chapter. :P I thought they would be in Miami 2-3 chapters before they did, and I thought it would be 1-2 chapters before Robert died, but that took another FOUR. Glad you like it, and it's always fun to hear from new people!

**Words:**

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**Chapter 24: My Lover's Gone**

Lisa slumped in the backseat, resting her head against the window as Jeff made his way down the freeway. She was exhausted, but she was hesitant to fall asleep for fear that she would wake up at the airport. Ben had conned his way into the car, asking Jeff to drop him off at his apartment so he could grab his car, insisting that it would be more efficient for the two to be picking up supplies simultaneously.

Caleb hadn't said a word since they had gotten in the car, but he appeared more lost in thought than tired. Lisa could only imagine what was going on inside his head- it probably wasn't that much different than hers. She was worried about him. There were too many times since her arrival in Miami that she had seen shadows in his eyes for her to discount it as her imagination or insignificant. She still yearned to talk to him, but it seemed like they wouldn't have time to themselves in the foreseeable future.

At the same time, who was she to him? He had no reason to open up to her. He was just the guy who had bandaged her wounds, let her stay in his house without question—to her, at least—and Jackson's brother, and she was the girl who played a role in getting him to where he was and someone who was in an undefined relationship with his brother. But, she was reminded as she felt Caleb's hand over hers, they had somehow formed a bond based on something that Lisa could not explain. She glanced down at his hand, wondering if the action was more for her benefit or his.

She turned back to look out the window again. Downtown Miami was beautiful in the early morning. Even though a person could probably say the same about any location, Miami was _her_ city. She tried to imagine the New York skyline it its place and frowned. It was just one more thing that would never be the same. Lisa scowled. _Get a grip. _She had to stop pissing and moaning about her future. As much as she hated the idea of her life being controlled by everyone else around it, she had to remind herself yet again that there was no point in constantly sulking about it.

She thought back to the flight to Miami, the last time she had convinced herself that she was going to stop obsessing over things she couldn't change, and Jackson's words came back to her: _if you can't live with it, then die by it._ Of course, that was the same flight during which the two of them made a silent promise to see things through to the end, and Jackson had bailed on that fairly quickly. Or had he? Was this whole suicide mission Jackson's way of deciding that he couldn't 'live with it' anymore?

Lisa closed her eyes. She knew it wasn't as simple as all that. He definitely didn't seem like the type to just lose all hope and end his own life, but it still plagued her. What were the chances that Jackson, probably subconsciously, was sabotaging his own mission? She normally would argue that if it were the case, he wouldn't drag others down with him, but from what Ben had said, he was sending away his best assets. His whole job seemed to revolve around deciding who to sacrifice to get the job done- was it really possible that he was actually _planning_ on getting killed and bringing enough to people to kill Keefe, but people who were expendable? Or was she being paranoid?

Lisa hissed as Jeff drove over a pothole and her head bounced against the glass. No, she was being paranoid. That wasn't Jackson's style. Yes, he was capable of sacrificing people for the whole, but he wouldn't do it if he had another option. Ben had to be right- he was just being pessimistic. Or maybe it was option C- Jackson just wasn't any good at planning when he had a short time frame in which to do so. He didn't have time to thoroughly go over his options, so as soon as he saw a plan that worked, he stuck with it.

"It doesn't make any sense for you to drive all the way to the airport, you know," Ben said from the front seat, pulling Lisa from her thoughts. She focused her attention on him, knowing that this was part of his plan. "Just drop us off and I'll take Lisa to the airport." _Wait, what?_ Lisa's eyes narrowed.

"And Caleb?" Jeff replied, arching an eyebrow skeptically. _Yes, what about Caleb?_ She glanced over at the other man, who had pulled his hand from hers.

"Oh, you know," Ben replied casually, "We haven't seen each other for years, so I thought we'd do some catching up while I figure out what we need." He glanced back at Caleb, who nodded in confirmation. Lisa's jaw dropped. What was happening? _Oh..._She leaned back against her seat, feeling sheepish. Of course Ben would say he was taking her to the airport- he had no excuse to give Jeff for why he would want to keep her around.

"Uh huh," Jeff replied, still seeming suspicious. He finally shrugged, pulling off the freeway. "And what should I tell _him_?"

"Tell him whatever you want," Caleb spoke up at the same time as Ben replied "Tell him we eloped."

"I like his better," Jeff said, motioning to Ben. Caleb grinned, leaning forward.

"Then make sure to tell him that Ben will be the one in the dress," he elaborated, resting his hands on either front seat.

Ben rolled his eyes. "He'll never believe _that_," he insisted. "You're the pretty one."

As they continued their banter, Lisa watched. She was both impressed and shocked by their ability to joke like they didn't have a care. They were so at ease with each other, and Lisa wondered if she was looking at the past. Was this what Caleb had looked like when he was on a job? Where did Jackson fit in their game? She couldn't see him joining in their rapport. She thought back to the employee canteen at the Lux Atlantic. Occasionally, she sat with other managers, but she often sat alone, watching her coworkers chatting and playing card games at other tables. She had the same feeling of isolation now as she had then. She imagined him being more like her.

Caleb finally leaned back as Jeff pulled into the parking garage. Lisa dropped down in her seat, her heart racing. Driving around Miami made her nervous enough, but now they were in a place where people could easily recognize her. She glanced up at Caleb, her head resting on his thigh. He looked out the window and yawned widely, appearing to not even notice how close she was to him.

Lisa felt the car pull to a stop and knew they must be by Ben's convertible. As Ben exited the car, Caleb glanced at Lisa, nodding that the coast was clear. The two grabbed their bags and quickly jumped out of the car, following Ben into his.

Ben turned around to look at Caleb. "I figure we'll drop her off and come back here. We can check into The Pointe later today- it's too early now. Lisa leaned forward as Ben started the ignition.

"What do you mean, drop me off?" she demanded, confused. "I'm staying here."

He made eye contact with her thought the rear-view mirror. "Absolutely not," he replied. "This is serious shit, and you don't belong here, Pollyanna." He reached down to shift gears, but Lisa clamped her hand over his, practically jumping into the front seat.

"I can help," she insisted. "I-"

Ben scoffed. "You can help with _what_, exactly? Do you have any plans?"

Lisa shook her head quickly. "No, but-"

"And you're obviously not very good with a gun. You shot Jackson twice less than _three _weeks ago, and he's up and running," Ben continued, cutting her off. Lisa shot a panicked glance at Caleb, but he remained silent, staring at her. Did he agree?

"I killed two federal agents," she shot back. She wasn't _useless_, no matter how Ben treated her.

"How many shots?" Ben replied smugly. Lisa thought back to her dad's house.

"Three, I think...for one of them," she admitted, her heart sinking even more when Ben laughed. "And the other one hit his head when I pushed him. And I helped Jackson kill two Russians."

Ben narrowed his eyes. "And what did you do?"

Lisa stared at the floor of the car, her hand tightening over his. "I drove," she replied quietly. "But I want to help."

Ben shrugged. "I'm not denying that. It's admirable. But I'm not putting my life in your hands. And I highly doubt Cal really wants to, either." The two glanced at the other man, who just watched, still silent. Lisa stared at him in desperation. Why wasn't he helping her? "You're a liability, _devotchka. _And why should I risk my life helping you?" he continued. "What's in it for me? I mean, we all know why Jackson was helping you." He gave her a pointed look that provoked a light blush. "But I'm not interested in that, so..." he trailed off, staring at her.

Lisa blinked hard, chewing her bottom lip. She had no idea how to respond. There really wasn't anything in it for him. They hardly knew each other, and she _was_ a liability compared to the rest of them. But this couldn't be it, could it?

"It will piss off Jackson," Caleb responded, finally coming to Lisa's defense. After a short pause, Ben sighed, and turned off the car.

"Good enough for me," he concluded. Lisa narrowed her eyes at Caleb, finally releasing Ben's hand. Was that it? Was that the only reason that she was being allowed to stay? She wanted to ask why making Jackson angry was worth risking his life, but she didn't want to push her luck.

"So I'm a pawn now?" she asked coldly, leaning back in her seat.

Ben nodded. "I asked you first. You couldn't give me a good reason. Pissing off Jackson is a good a reason as any." He got out of the car, leaving Lisa and Caleb alone. Lisa turned to look at him.

"Why haven't you been defending me," she asked bitterly.

Caleb sighed. "Because you need to stand up for yourself," he replied, following Ben out of the vehicle. Lisa crossed her arms. She had been trying, but why couldn't he see that she was an outsider, and his opinion was at least respected by the rest of them? He was so sweet to her in private, but when others were around, he became part of the background where she was concerned.

Lisa finally exited the car slowly. "Do we really have to stay here?" she asked quietly, moving to stand behind Caleb. This was her apartment building- it would be so easy to have her cover blown here. There could be surveillance for all she knew.

"We can't check into the hotel yet," Ben replied, walking toward the elevators. "And you both look like you're about to die, so you should get some sleep before we start our plans." He glanced her. "Relax. Don't do cartwheels or start shouting in the hallways and you'll be fine."

Lisa nodded, moving in close behind Caleb. He reached back and grabbed her hand, guiding to her to walk next to him. "Just act natural," he ordered as they got in the elevator. Lisa squeezed his hand as they approached her floor, the 16th. She had hardly been in her own building since the flight, and what used to be her sanctuary was now terrifying. There was something unsettling about being back in her old life- it seemed so long ago, like she had aged years in the past few days.

"Are you fluent in Russian?" she asked Ben as the elevator ascended, trying to distract herself.

"My parents," he replied. "They're immigrants."

Lisa nodded. "I never would have guessed. You're so...New Yohk," she replied, imitating his accent. Five floors left. "And what's your real name?"

"Alexander Nikolayevich Dubnikov," Caleb responded with an added flourish. "Fancy, isn't it?"

Lisa's eyes widened. "It _is _quite a name," she replied. "Makes mine sound boring. How do _you_ know it?"

"We were roommates in college," Ben explained before Caleb could reply, "So we've always known each others' names."

Lisa nodded. So they had known each other almost ten years. It explained why they were so casual with each other. "What about Jackson?" she asked Caleb. "I would have thought you and he went to college together."

"We did. We lived with Ben and another guy," he responded as the elevator stopped.

"And you hate each other?" Lisa asked Ben as they exited the elevator. She had begun her line of questioning as a distraction, but now she was genuinely curious. It was oddly exciting to think that she could learn more about Jackson's past without him there to stop her.

Ben laughed. "Oh yeah," he replied, unlocking his door.

"He slept with Jackson's ex," Caleb informed her, leading her into Ben's apartment. He released her hand, dropping his bag on the floor. Lisa gaped at Ben, who tossed his keys onto a nearby table. She remembered Jackson mentioning that he had been cheated on. If Ben was the other guy, that explained a lot about their animosity.

"_After_ they broke up," Ben explained defensively. "He should have gotten over it by now if you ask me." _Bros before hos_, Lisa thought to herself with a small grin, dropping her bag near Caleb's.

"Well, he took it personally, I guess," Caleb replied lightly with another wide yawn. Lisa felt an odd urge to ask more about this woman. Jackson had called her his first love, which she interpreted as his first and apparently only serious girlfriend. She was curious as to what kind of woman Jackson would have considered settling down with, but she also felt like was none of her business.

Caleb grinned at Lisa. "She was attractive, but pretty dumb," he told her as though he had been reading her mind. Lisa blushed- was she that obvious?

"And kind of a bitch," Ben elaborated, leaning against the table. "I still don't get what he saw in her."

"But _you_ slept with her," Lisa blurted, hopping up to sit on the back of the couch.

"Yeah, because she was hot," Ben replied, "and I was drunk. It was just one night- I never _dated _her."

Caleb shrugged. "She was fun enough, I guess," he added, furrowing his eyebrows. "I don't know...he didn't talk about her much." He walked over to where Lisa sat, leaning next to her. "Don't worry," he teased. "He likes you more. And you're nothing like her."

"Not true," Ben interjected. "You're hot, too." Lisa dropped backwards onto the couch cushions, blushing furiously.

"You guys are mean," she whined. Caleb turned to lean over the couch, grinning as he hovered over her.

"Poor Leese," he joked good-naturedly. "Trying to fish for information kind of blew up in your face, didn't it?"

Lisa nudged him with one leg, her knees still resting on the couch back. "He said he loved her," she said softly. "Or thought he did. And he told me that he loves me...do you think he means it?" Caleb sobered, and Lisa heard Ben groan.

"Do we need to get you some girlfriends?" he asked, appearing on the other side of her legs. "I'm shit at girl talk."

"I would say that he thinks he does," Caleb replied honestly. "He hasn't talk to me about it very much." Lisa kicked her legs lightly in the air, an embarrassing ripple of excitement in her stomach. She was feeling strangely giddy, despite everything that was going on.

"He talked about me to you...like that?" she asked quietly. This was news to her. She would have assumed Jackson had nothing but negative things to say about her after their flight. Ben also turned his head to look at Caleb, but obviously had no emotional investment in the conversation.

Caleb nodded hesitantly. "He did, but that's between me and him," he replied firmly. He stood up straight and grabbed Lisa's legs, tossing them to the side and causing her to tip over on the couch cushions. "Enough of the inquisition. Aren't you tired?"

"Yes," Lisa conceded. She was exhausted, but she felt like she could finally press the two, especially Caleb, for as much information as she wanted, and she didn't feel ready to give up on the opportunity. On the other hand, she did recognize that the moment was over. They both seemed to be finished discussing Jackson. She rolled to her feet, hoping that she could steer the conversation back his way later.

"How are we doing this?" Ben asked as Lisa stretched carefully. Her shoulder was feeling much better, but her little tumble had caused a dull pain.

"Lisa should probably get the bed," Caleb replied. "She's the injured one, and it wouldn't be very gentlemanly for you to make her sleep on the couch."

Ben stood up straight, nodding. "And I am always a gentleman," he added. An awkward silence fell over the trio as they eyed the couch. The two men looked at each other, both reluctant to offer to take the floor. Lisa debated saying that she would prefer Caleb stayed with her. She had gotten used to constantly being with someone, and she didn't want one of them sleeping on the wood. At the same time, it seemed rude to make Ben sleep on his own couch, but she didn't feel comfortable sharing a bed with him.

"We could all share the bed," she offered diplomatically. It would be a little weird, but it seemed to be the fairest solution. Ben eyed her, his eyebrows raised.

"So that's what you're into?" he teased with a small laugh. "No, it's fine. I'll take the couch if you two want the bed."

"But it's your bed," Lisa insisted with a small frown. "I'd feel bad."

Ben shook his head dismissively. "I'm not sharing with him," he replied, motioning to Caleb. "He's a cuddler." He vaulted over the back of the couch, stretching out across the cushions. "There. End of discussion." He looked at Caleb. "Floor or bed?"

Caleb studied Lisa curiously. He knew about her past, and also what was going on between her and Jackson, and it was obvious that he was debating whether or not it was really okay with her. Lisa smiled at him reassuringly. She knew that she shouldn't be so open to the idea, but she also knew that they weren't in a normal world anymore- she wouldn't normally have sat in the bathroom speaking to a man while he was naked on the other side of a curtain, and then while he was wearing only a towel. She wouldn't normally just lay on a bed in only a bra and jeans with someone she wasn't dating. She didn't feel as uncomfortable as she should have been with the idea- compared to what they had already done, sleeping in the same bed seemed like such a non-issue.

"If it's alright with you..." he finally said, waiting for confirmation. When Lisa nodded, he mimicked her. "Well...let's go." He grabbed their bags and headed for Ben's bedroom. Lisa headed for the linen closet and grabbed a fleece blanket. She walked back over to the couch, where Ben was kicking off his shoes and jeans. Lisa draped the blanket over him as he lay back against one of the throw pillows.

"Night," she said, leaning on the back of the couch. "And I'll show you that I'm not useless."

Ben sighed, folding his hands behind his head. "It's not personal, you know," he replied. "I'm just trying to be realistic." Lisa nodded, propping herself on her elbows.

"I get it," she assured him. "But I guarantee that I know hotels better than you, so I can help with that at least."

Ben nodded. "That's true," he conceded. "And for what it's worth, I did want to warn you about what was happening. I just couldn't."

Lisa rubbed her shoulder absently. "It's worth something, I guess," she replied honestly. "It's not really fair to blame you any more than I blame Jackson for it."

"And how much is that?" he asked curiously. "You seem pretty...happy with him. Well, all things considering."

Lisa rolled her neck and yawned. Her exhaustion was kicking in again. "Less than I should, I suppose," she replied. She found it strange that she had hardly thought about it since she left Florida. Wasn't it mostly Jackson's fault that she was where she was? She frowned. She _should _be blaming Jackson for what was happening, in reality. Or had she actually moved on from the events? She chewed her bottom lip, guilt creeping back into her thoughts.

"Shit, I'm sorry," Ben said, interrupting her brooding. "I shouldn't have said anything. Forget it. Have a good night." Lisa nodded absently. She stood up again and headed slowly into the bedroom. Caleb was in the bed, and he appeared to already be asleep. Lisa quickly pulled off the jeans and boxers before sliding on her yoga pants.

She crawled under the blankets and looked over at Caleb, who had his face pressed down against the pillow.

"Caleb?" she asked softly, hoping that he wasn't really asleep yet.

"What?" came the muffled response.

"I feel like a bad person," she replied, curling into a ball. Caleb shifted his face so that one eye was uncovered, staring at her. "Shouldn't I be angry at Jackson for everything that's happened?" she asked. "Or am I putting it out of my mind because of this new relationship?"

Caleb groaned and buried his face in the pillow again. "Don't start," he rebuked. Lisa chewed on her lip. He sighed and turned to face her once again. "If you're going to blame Jackson for what happened with you and your dad, then I'm going to blame you for what's happening with Cheryl. Is that fair?"

Lisa furrowed her eyebrows. "How is it my fault? She chose to turn on you."

He shrugged. "She never would have had to if you hadn't screwed up the Keefe job."

Lisa shot him a full-on scowl. "But it's not my fault that I was pulled into that," she insisted.

Caleb nodded. "True, but you chose to sabotage Jackson." He rolled onto his back, turning to face her. "I don't blame you for what happened with Cheryl- my point is that everyone made their own decisions. If you want to blame Jackson for what you did, for what your dad did, and what the feds did, you might as well Marie for assigning him to the mission or blame the flight attendants for letting him off the plane in the first place."

Lisa nodded, embarrassed. She knew that she had already worked out the blame game. She felt stupid for letting it get to her again. "Sorry for bothering you about it," she apologized softly.

Caleb smiled warmly. "No harm, no foul," he reassured her. Lisa scooted closer to him.

"What would I do without you?" she asked, closing her eyes.

"Amputate your arm?" he joked. Lisa scoffed.

"Probably," she replied, opening her eyes again. "My dad's funeral is today," she reminded him.

Caleb nodded. "I know," he replied. "Sorry that you can't go." Lisa nodded, curling up tighter. She yawned widely. He rolled back onto his stomach. "Get some sleep, Leese," he ordered. "We can talk more this afternoon, alright?"

Lisa nodded, closing her eyes again. She snuggled against the pillow, finally surrendering to her exhaustion.

Jackson wrapped a towel tightly around his waist and grabbed Lisa's wet clothes. _Idiot_. He quickly hung the clothes on the curtain rod so they could dry. As an afterthought, he reached into the pocket of her jeans and removed the folded papers that he had given to her. Hopefully she still had Trudi's number. He tossed the paper with the number into the trash can, and stared at the second paper. He wondered if Lisa had opened it. _Probably not_. He palmed the note, deciding to keep it for the time being.

_Jackass. _Jackson slicked back his hair as he walked out of the bathroom. He was such a moron. How could he let himself lose control like that yet again, not even an hour after he had decided once and for all to finish things with Lisa?

"Ben?" he called out, confused. He had expected to find the other man in the living room, but it was just Cheryl. Jackson's eyes narrowed as he approached her. Had they really left her unsupervised? He could see that they had taken the precaution of tying her hands to her foot binds to make it harder to escape, but still. Was he the only one who understood how dangerous she was?

"He went with Jeff," she explained. "Said he wanted to get a jump on getting supplies." Jackson nodded, barely paying attention as he tried to push the memory of Lisa, writhing, nude, and pinned to the shower wall, out of his head. _Stupid_. He grabbed his bag from next to the couch, searching for clean clothes. He dropped his towel and quickly changed into the set. It didn't even occur to him to feel self-conscious. He and Caleb were pretty much identical in body as well as facially, so in a way, she had seen him naked hundreds of times. Plus, he wasn't about to leave her alone again.

He dropped down onto the couch. _So goddamn stupid._ He stared at Cheryl, debating what to do next. He needed sleep, but she needed to be watched. Even if she couldn't easy get out of her binds, with enough time, she could make her way to a phone, or out the door. Finally he stood up again, grabbing his knife. He approached Cheryl and cut a few of her ties, freeing her hands. He wordlessly grabbed new ties from a nearby pile and dragged her to the couch. He re-bound her hands, and looped a new tie between her hands and around his own wrist. He pulled tightly, knowing that the plastic ties Jeff had gotten couldn't be loosened, only cut. If she wanted to get free, she would have to either chew through the ties or drag him along with her.

Jackson lay on the couch, closing his eyes. _Goddamn fucking moron. _The more he tried to put his stupidity out of his mind, the more he remembered every second of that shower. He still insisted to himself that he had made the right choice sending her away, but he just had to go and make it even more difficult for himself to get over her.

He groaned in irritation. He knew that he was just being emotional and ridiculous- it was just _sex_. But even as he tried to admonish himself, he knew that he was lying. He had had sex hundreds of times in his life. Just like in everything else, Lisa was different. Not because of some inherent quality that made different from so many women, but just because she was _Lisa._

Jackson turned awkwardly, dropping his face onto the arm of the couch. He hated himself for being so weak, so downright senseless. He lifted his head, glancing at his phone. He could call her, call Jeff...take it back, tell her to come back to his side. No matter what he had thrown at her, she had been standing her ground, pushing right back. Even as he told her in no uncertain terms that she was leaving, she remained defiant. And now she was gone along with the last of Jackson's sanity. He was disgusted at how lost he felt.

_Suck it up_. He scowled and dropped onto the arm again. He refused to let himself call it off. He was acting in her best interest. It would hurt, of course. There was no doubt that he loved her, that she made him feel a new sense of completion, but he kept reminding himself that he wasn't good for her. He couldn't be selfish.

"Jackson?" he turned his attention to Cheryl, who was stretched out on the floor, looking irritated. Her arms were suspended in the air by his hand, which barely hung off the couch. "I can't sleep like this." He rolled his eyes.

"And?" he snapped, and then sighed. "Fine." He didn't have the strength to argue. He pulled her to her feet and helped her shimmy over him to lie wedged between him and the cushions. "Just don't say a goddamn word," he mumbled.

Of course Cheryl couldn't keep her mouth shut. "She's better off without you," he heard her say from behind him. She didn't sound mocking- it was almost like she was trying to comfort him. Jackson nodded.

"I know," he replied softly, closing his eyes. And he did- but he wished he didn't feel so empty.

* * *

**Don't worry- Jackson isn't softening regarding Cheryl. But he's not a complete asshole (and he's tired- give the guy a break).**

**R&R- chapter 25 will come faster that way, and it should be tons of fun...when Jackson is away, Lisa will play...with his backstory. There will finally be some history uninterrupted by tantrums!**

**If you're interested, I highly recommend the song that this chapter is named for- My Lover's Gone by Dido. It doesn't really go with the story, but it's a _really _pretty song. Just a thought.**


	26. The Bachelor and the Bride

**Thanks as always to my gorgeous reviewers! I know I said this chapter was going to be focused on the brothers' past, but it took a slightly different turn as I was writing it. Sorry. :(**

**trudes193- **We've discussed their relationship. :P Jackson will be coming to his senses sooner rather than later.

**PirateGyrl- **You are probably my favorite reviewer. You notice the little things, and I love your interpretation of things soooo much! As for the note...we'll have to see what happens.

**Jesscah- **Oh. My. God. You liiiiiive. Glad you enjoyed their little scene. As you'll see, Lisa becomes quite the asset in this chapter. Cheryl is Cheryl- she has motivations, even if they're messed up. I have a weird soft spot for her, honestly. I don't know why. :P Yeah, I noticed that I was writing Caleb a little Jackson-like, but I figure...they're brothers. I think I mentioned that one of my best friends has an identical twin brother, and it's so interesting to watch them together. Sometimes they're different people, and sometimes it's like watching clones. It's trippy.

**Just a little warning...Jackson isn't in this chapter. He'll be much more involved in the next chapter.**

* * *

**Chapter 25: The Bachelor and the Bride**

Lisa awoke with a start. She rolled over to face Caleb, who was still sleeping. His arm was draped over her waist, probably out of habit. Lisa stared at him, thinking back to the nights she had woken in motel beds with Jackson. Even in sleep, he was closed off, his arms at his sides. It was fascinating to her how two people could look so much alike, and yet be so different. When they were confronted, Caleb fought to get the person on his side, and Jackson just pushed them away.

The more Lisa thought about it, the more she realized that they really weren't all that different. Neither of them completely shut off- they both seemed constantly aware of and analyzing their surroundings. It was amazing to Lisa just how observant they were. Caleb had been more open with his take on things, but she could tell that Jackson had just as firm of a grasp on reality, at least most of the time. Yes, Jackson was the "bad" twin and Caleb was "good", but she had been told that Caleb was quite the killer, and Jackson had his sweet moments. He could be gentlemanly- holding the door open, carrying her bag, and she couldn't forget how gentle he was when he had tended to her injuries.

Images from Lisa's dream invaded her thoughts, pulling her back to reality. She carefully moved Caleb's arm back to his side and shook him awake.

"Caleb," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. When she heard him grunt in reply, she continued. "I know what to do with Cheryl." Caleb stirred, folding his arms under his head and turned to look at Lisa, his eyes half-closed. She sat up, looking down at him. "We can do it at my dad's house," she explained, watching as his eyes widened slightly. "We can get some gasoline or lighter fluid or something, and set the place on fire. Something in there will explode, right?"

Caleb tensed up, stretching, his eyes closing. "Maybe. It's not that easy, though." He yawned widely, opening his eyes. "But we can make it work. What else?"

Lisa toyed with her bandage. "If it were _me,_ I mean if I was doing it to myself, I would probably shoot myself in the head. I mean, I wouldn't want to burn alive."

He nodded, looking curious. "And why your dad's house?" he asked. He didn't seem all that surprised with her plan, or maybe he just wasn't fully awake yet.

"Because that's the only place I would burn down," she replied, her face darkening. "And I kind of want to burn it anyway," she admitted. "I don't want some stranger living there, and I don't have family in Miami who would move in."

"Two birds,"Caleb muttered, and sighed heavily. "Makes sense," he allowed, "But there are lots of logistical issues to deal with. How are we going to set the fire without burning ourselves alive? How are we going to get into the house without catching anyone's attention? Do we do it between one and three a.m. when the night owls are potentially awake, or between three and five when people are getting up for work? Or some other time? How are we going to get away?" He buried his face in his arms. "And those are just off the top of my head."

"How are we going to get Cheryl out of the house without Jackson knowing that we're here?" Lisa added, leaning back on her elbows. She obviously knew that there were details to work out, but she was sure she had a legitimate plan forming.

"Mhm," Caleb replied, and she could see that he was yawning again. "I'll think about it. Can I go back to sleep, or are you not finished?"

Lisa shook her head, lying back on the bed. "No, that was it," she admitted. She didn't see how Caleb could be tired now- she felt wide awake. Even as she asked herself, she felt her eyelids becoming heavy again. She pulled the blankets up to her chin, curling up into a ball again.

Lisa closed her eyes tightly, shutting out the sunlight streaming through the window. She thought over the questions that Caleb had raised. The 1-3 window made more sense, because in that neighborhood, there were likely more workers than people who stayed up all night.

She was pulled from her thoughts when Caleb spoke again. "It would be easier if Jackson was helping." Lisa nodded, pulling the blanket entirely over her head in frustration. She wanted so badly to call him and get help. He had listened to her talk about her dad. He was the one who told her about Keefe and the feds. He had _promised_ to help. It felt wrong to be doing this without him there.

"Why can't we just talk to him?" Even as she asked, she knew the answer. They had _tried _talking to him- it hadn't worked. "Why is he like that?"

She felt the mattress shift. "Because he is," Caleb replied flatly. "He gets a plan in his head and he sticks to it. He just likes being in control, and we challenge him...so we're out."

Lisa didn't reply. She already knew that. "Was he always like this?" she asked.

"In one way or another," Caleb replied, but didn't elaborate. Lisa sighed. It was so frustrating. She had seen definite moments when Jackson started to relinquish control, but he always snapped back. Maybe Caleb was right. Maybe it was just something inherent in Jackson. Maybe Jackson _had _done the right thing by ending it with her.

"How does this end?" she heard Caleb ask, and she lowered the blanket to look at him.

"We're going to finish my plan, and then we're going to help with Keefe," Lisa replied, and then hesitated. "Then I'm going to go on with my life." Caleb raised his eyebrows. "I love him," Lisa added quickly, "but if this is just something that isn't going to change...it will never work. I can't force myself into his life if he doesn't want me around."

"I never said it wouldn't change," he replied, irritated. "I said he's been like that in one way or another. He's already changed a _lot_ since you left my house, and it's only been four days. And you caused that."

A small smile tugged at Lisa's lips. She was glad that the changes she saw in Jackson weren't a product of her hopeful imagination. "I mean, it's your choice," Caleb continued, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles. "I just wouldn't want you to give up because of a misunderstanding." He yawned. "Plus, it doesn't make sense for you to risk your life just to disappear after. Martyrdom is such a cliché." He reached over and pulled the blanket back over Lisa's head. "Now go back to sleep."

Lisa's head was spinning a hundred miles an hour. She couldn't get used to the battle between the practical and the optimistic that had been raging for days. It was making her question every thought in her head, especially when it came to Jackson. One minute she thought that she was better off without him and the next she was fired right back up. It was exhausting.

When Lisa awoke again, she was alone. She glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand. 1:00. She flopped onto her stomach, pulling the blankets over her head to block out the blaring sunlight. Hadn't Ben heard of closing his blinds? Eventually, the faint scent of food crept into her senses, and she pulled herself out of bed.

Rubbing her eyes, she made her way into the kitchen, and was greeted by Caleb's back as he prepared some kind of sandwich. She briefly let her imagination wander, and wondered what it would be like to wake up in the morning- or afternoon- and have Jackson be there. She could almost pretend it was her apartment- the layout was identical. Lisa leaned against the wall, lost in her daydream.

Caleb turned around and stepped back, startled. "Hey creeper," he greeted hesitantly. Lisa smiled sheepishly at took a seat at the bar.

"Sorry," she said, her voice still husky with sleep. "I'm a little out of it." She leaned forward. "What are you making?"

"Tuna melts," Caleb replied. "Ben doesn't have much food around." He offered a plate, which Lisa took gratefully. Her stomach was complaining obnoxiously about the strange schedule she had forced it into the last few days.

"Why do you call him Ben if you know his real name?" she asked as she took a bite of the sandwich. Caleb shrugged, propping himself on his elbows across the bar.

"I'm used to it. It's standard to use the pseudonyms," he explained casually. "He calls me by my name because I'm not in the agency anymore, and he calls Jackson by his in private to irritate him."

Lisa nodded. "I get why Jackson hates him, but why does he hate Jackson?"

"He should be on Jackson's team, but Jackson made sure to push him off to Robert, and Marie definitely favored Jackson over Robert, so Ben doesn't get much good work. They mostly get bullshit jobs," Caleb replied, taking a bite of his sandwich. "Apparently that's what the whole revolt was about. They wanted to replace Marie more than anything else. But..." Caleb trailed off, staring at his food.

Lisa frowned, shifting in her seat. "But what?" she prodded, setting down the sandwich.

Caleb shook his head. "It's not something I should go into," he replied firmly. "It's a whole new level of complication at an international level." He rubbed the back of his neck. "And it's irrelevant now since it's mostly dead."

Lisa furrowed her eyebrows. She had noticed that Caleb had a tendency to stop himself from sharing his information, but now his vagueness was unsettling. A shadow had been cast across his face, and he looked more troubled than usual. "Mostly?" she asked hesitantly. She didn't know what tricks to use to get to Caleb- she had mostly backed off when he stopped sharing, and that was usually the end of the discussion.

"The agency won't be finishing it," Caleb responded, staring at the counter top. His unease was growing, which made Lisa even more nervous.

"What's going on?" she asked, leaning forward. "Something's wrong."

Caleb shook his head. "It's not your business," he replied. "It's really Ben's thing." Lisa frowned. She definitely couldn't let it go now.

"Does Jackson know?" she asked, irritated. "Or is it not his business, either?"

"No," he responded flatly. Lisa bit her lip.

"Caleb, please tell me," she insisted, but Caleb didn't react. "I won't say anything to Jackson. And how do you know this stuff if he doesn't?" She lowered her voice. "Is Ben in trouble?" She glanced around, noting the empty apartment. "And where is he, anyway?"

"He's picking up some supplies for me," he replied, and shifted his weight, leaning even more heavily against the bar. He looked like he wanted to say more, but there was only silence. Lisa frowned, waiting to see if he would continue if she stopped prodding him. She got no response. Who would have thought that Caleb was harder to break than Jackson?

Caleb sighed heavily. "Listen Leese," he said, taking her hands in his. "I know that you like to ask questions and all that, but please trust that it has to stay a secret. I can't risk you saying anything to Jackson." Lisa opened her mouth to reply that she wouldn't but Caleb anticipated this. "You can't make a promise like that before you know the information," he insisted, and sighed again. "Look- I promise that Jackson's not in any danger, and the only person in the agency it affects is Ben."

Lisa pulled her hands from Caleb's and sat back on the bar stool, frowning slightly. She hated this, but she understood that she was not going to get it comfortably out of Caleb. She begrudgingly had to respect his boundaries and drop it. She doubted that there was any way of getting it out of Ben, which meant that she would just never know what was going on. Even though she wasn't particularly attached to Ben, Caleb's tone made it clear that whatever it was, it was bad for him.

The two sat in silence, picking at their food. Lisa found that her appetite had suddenly disappeared, and got to her feet. "Thanks for the sandwich," she said, leaving more than half of it behind as she walked back into the bedroom. She quickly got back under the blankets again.

It wasn't long before Caleb followed her. "Are you sulking?" he asked incredulously, and Lisa felt a dip in the mattress as he sat down. She repositioned herself so she could face him, propping up her head.

"No," she replied, and she wasn't, really. "I spent the last few years getting involved with people just to the point where I could find out how to make their visit more comfortable. I went to work, dealt with guests and my staff, and then I went home. That's it. I've never really dealt with this life or death stuff before, and it's still taking me a while to get used to it." Caleb nodded, waiting for her to go on. "It's been a while since I was close to anyone other than my dad," she continued, her voice faltering slightly, "and now I am, but the people I'm getting close to might die any day." She blushed heavily, fixing her gaze on the blanket beneath her. "It's scary."

Caleb sighed heavily. "It is," he agreed, resting his weight on his arms behind him. "I know Jackson believes it's all about the greater good, but there is _nothing_ okay about this job. You isolate yourself from the public, associating only with colleagues, marks, and targets. You come to care about most of them, even some of the marks. Maybe even a target or two." He stared at the wall, and Lisa felt as though he was mostly talking to himself. "You see the people you care about die, and you don't have the right to be upset because you're a killer yourself." He glanced at Lisa, his face dark. "Innocent people get dragged into it, and come out either sane, but with blood on their hands, or they don't make it in one way or another." He blinked hard. "And even if you find a way out, you're not really alive anymore."

Lisa pulled herself over to Caleb, sitting close to him. "Do you still think you're a killer?" she asked quietly. "Is that why you're not really trying to be a doctor?" He turned away, laughing nervously.

"I _am_ a doctor," he replied, his voice still uneven. "And not in some free clinic. At a hospital." Lisa furrowed her eyebrows, her head tilting slightly.

"But Jackson said-"

"Because that's what I told him," he interrupted. "He thinks I'm still associated with the agency, but I told Marie years ago that I was done. Completely out." Lisa's eyebrows raised in surprise. She thought back to her conversation with Jackson, when he had told her that he _wanted_ Caleb to choose one path or another. Why had Caleb kept it from him? In his usual style, Caleb seemed to read her mind. "I know I made the right choice, but I still felt like I was abandoning him. Lying to him about it was the only way that I could...you know..." he trailed off, giving Lisa a questioning look, as though he didn't have to explain.

Lisa nodded. She _did _understand, in a way. She could relate to the thought of knowing that you were doing the right thing, and at the same time having a piece of you unwilling to completely abandon your previous path. But that wasn't her problem at the moment- her problem was that she just didn't know what was the right thing anymore. And to make matters worse, she wasn't getting any help from the men who knew more about such things. Caleb was great to talk to, but he had an irritating ability to give her multiple points of view and make them all sound like the right path. Jackson had his chosen path, and bounced between being highly adept at convincing Lisa that it was the right one, and telling her off if she even questioned it without giving her an explanation.

"How did you figure out what was the right thing?" she asked shyly. She waiting to be rebuked for such a "stupid" question, but Caleb seemed to be thinking it over.

"I guess, I decided that I had to be true to myself first, as stupid as that sounds," he replied. "I love my brother, but he comes second." He chuckled dryly. "Not very romantic, is it?"

Lisa shook her head. "It's honest. And...it's true," she replied, trying to think of a way to express the odd feeling of gratitude she felt.

Caleb raised an eyebrow. "This coming from the girl who battled an assassin to save her father _and_ a government official? Sounds pretty selfless."

She hung her head. "It's not quite like that," she admitted softly. "I set up Keefe, but when I heard his family would be killed too, I just couldn't. I knew I wouldn't be able to forgive myself. But my dad..." She trailed off. She had been dancing around her true motivations ever since the flight, but wasn't sure how to word them. "I...gave Keefe up because I wanted my dad to live, but because I didn't want to lose him, more than because I just didn't want him to die. It was selfish." She fiddled with the blanket, unable to look at Caleb.

"And you think that's wrong?" he replied, leaning forward to lift her chin. "Lisa, when you look at it that way, we're all selfish. Of _course_ you made your choices thinking about the effect it would have on your life. You're here because you want to help Jackson, even though it might kill you. You could just leave, and save your own life, but it sounds like you would hate yourself for it. So does staying make you selfish, too?"

Lisa furrowed her brows, considering what he had just said. It made sense, and it gave her a surprising feeling of release. She collapsed onto her stomach, burying her face in the blankets. "I'm not normally this stupid," she whined, embarrassed. "My head's all mixed up."

"Aw, don't be like that," Caleb replied, laughing lightly. "It's to be expected. You think I just woke up one day and decided 'I don't want to kill people anymore. I want to help them.'?" He shook his head. "No, I just spent eleven years of my life watching my mom and my brother bend over backwards trying to make my dad happy. I've seen what it does to people, and it still took another five years before I decided to be my own person, even if it sucks sometimes. But I _had_ to think about things like that, really. Many people, yourself included, have had the luxury of not having to really think about their motivations and the truly right and wrong things to do."

Lisa lifted her head, staring up at him. She never had to think about right and wrong before? That was news to her. He noticed her irritation and rubbed the back of his neck. "That came out totally wrong. What I mean is..." He groaned, gesturing wildly with one hand while he thought about it. "Okay, take capital punishment. You can put a lot of thought into how you feel about it, but usually, in the end, it doesn't _really _affect you personally whether or not a criminal gets injected or spends the rest of his life in prison. The increase in your taxes to cover life in prison amounts to pennies for you, and chances are that his crime didn't have anything to do with you. But if you're a juror at his trial, you now have to deal with the fact that you could directly assist in putting another person to death." He sighed, frustrated. "My point is that you haven't had to make decisions like these before the last few weeks, so don't get down on yourself for not being able to just _know_ the answer."

Lisa nodded slowly. She thought that she understood his point, and it did make her feel a little better. "It's a little hard to imagine Jackson trying so hard to get approval," she noted, steering the subject in a different direction. She remembered that she had wanted to get more information out of Caleb when Jackson wasn't around, and it seemed unlikely that he would be as candid with Ben around.

"He wants yours," Caleb replied pointedly. "That much is obvious." Lisa nodded. She had noticed his struggle when she disagreed with him. She didn't want to talk about herself in relation to Jackson anymore, though. She was feeling too overwhelmed by that subject.

"I wouldn't say he's bent over backwards though," she responded, repeating Caleb's previous words and hoping that he would take the bait. He just shrugged, and Lisa couldn't tell if he wasn't understanding what she was getting at, or if he didn't want to talk about their past. She decided to be blunt. "What was he like back then?" she asked. "I mean, before your dad died."

"I told you," he replied. "He was always looking for approval from Dad in one way or another. When that didn't work, he rebelled- started smoking, staying out with a bunch of girls, giving attitude, all that shit. He was trying to get his attention, I guess. Or maybe trying to get Dad to take it out on him instead of Mom. I don't know." He sighed. "I'm not a therapist. I don't know why he did the things he did, and he's not the most open book, in case you hadn't noticed." Lisa rolled her eyes playfully.

"Why do you think I'm talking to _you_?" she asked.

He shrugged. "My charming personality? Alright, I get it," he continued with a sigh. "He liked to fix things, like cars. And he was really into sports, especially swimming. Shooting was his big thing, though. It was a release for him. And a distraction too, I guess. He liked to stay busy." Lisa nodded. That wasn't really a surprise to her. She couldn't imagine Jackson just sitting around watching TV all day.

"If he liked to go to the range so much, why isn't he a good shot?" she asked. It always seemed to her that there wasn't really a trick to shooting guns. You practiced until you were good, and that was it. She still wondered if it had something to do with their dad.

"I broke his hand," Caleb replied casually. Lisa did a double-take.

"You what?" she asked in disbelief. "When? Why?"

"On the job," he explained, and grimaced. "Oh, it's a long story and he _really _hates it, but the short version is that I had to break his hand to get him out of restraints. He was cuffed to a dead guy, and we really had to get out of there." Lisa stared at him incredulously.

"I really don't like the short version," she reprimanded. There wasn't one aspect of what he had just said that she didn't need elaboration on. "You _can't_ just leave it at that."

Caleb grinned at her. "Well, I just did." he replied, and explained rapidly. "Alright, longer story is that he did one of those stupid heroic 'get out of here, I'll take the fall' things when we got caught on a job. Ben, Cheryl, a couple other low levels, and I had to get him out. They had him cuffed to some other guy, who we had to kill, but we didn't have time to break him out of the restraints, so I crushed his hand to get him out. And since I didn't have much medical training, his hand didn't heal quite right, so now he's a shit shot. Good enough?"

Lisa stared, stunned. "I guess" she replied quietly. She was embarrassed for suggesting that it was psychological, and wondered why Jackson never corrected her. Why did he hate the story so much?

"_Never _tell him I told you about it, okay?" Caleb asked, interrupting her musings. She nodded, still confused as to why it was such a big deal. She didn't bother asking, though- she had a feeling that Caleb was keeping something important from her, and also that he wasn't about to share it. She was completely caught off-guard by Caleb's next revelation. "I shot him that day, too."

Lisa's face went slack. What the hell _happened_ that day? Caleb grinned. "Don't look at me like that- I just nicked him," he elaborated. "That guy tried to use him as a body shield, and I kind of had to go through Jackson's shoulder to get at his head when he was moving." Lisa nodded, still a little stunned. She thought back to when Jackson had been sleeping in Caleb's basement, when she had looked at his scars, and remembered seeing a scar on his shoulder from the bullet. She remembered the two knife wounds, and assumed one of them was a result of the knife fight he had told her about.

"Is he going to be okay after everything that's happened?" she asked quietly. She hadn't seen many marks on him that she couldn't attribute to herself and her dad, and it suddenly occurred to her to be very worried for Jackson's health. Caleb had mentioned back in Minnesota that he hadn't had the proper time to heal, and she knew that his lung wound was infected. She couldn't imagine that everything that the last few days were particularly good for him.

"He should be fine if he can rest after this," Caleb replied. "Assuming not much more happens to him. Just cross your fingers that he doesn't get another injury in that same lung." Lisa paled, starting to feel nauseous. From Jackson's behavior, the worst was yet to come.

"You make it sound like he can't take much more," she noted grimly. Why couldn't they just catch a break? "What are the chances that he'll die?"

Caleb was silent for an unnerving amount of time. Lisa's stomach tightened. She knew she wasn't going to like his answer. "Good," he finally replied. "If you want numbers...70%?"

Lisa cried out softly. That couldn't be right. Even with Caleb and Ben at his back? She rubbed her temples, trying to push the thoughts out of her head. She couldn't afford to be distracted.

"Don't fall to pieces- it won't help anything." Lisa nodded, sighing. He was right, of course, but she was tired of playing the glass girl.

"I know," she shot back. "But let me have my weak little moment, and then I'll pull myself together."

He nodded. "Just make it short," he replied, but it was obvious that he understood. He gave her a teasing smile. "We have a lot of work to do still, so buck up, Buttercup."

Despite her best efforts to be moody, Lisa giggled. "Eat me, Sweet Pea," she retorted. She took a deep breath as Caleb laughed, and exhaled, feeling calm again. "When are we getting Cheryl?" She asked after a few moments of silence.

"Later tonight," he replied. "I'm thinking we should shoot for three for your plan...no pun intended."

Lisa rolled her eyes. _Yeah right. _"We should check into the hotel first," she reminded him, relieved that they were at least on the same page about the timing. "The Pointe requires room keys to access the elevators." Caleb pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes.

"Figures," he replied glumly. "But I guess it will make it easier to get away after if we don't have to all leave."

"But that means that they'll know who accessed the elevator," Lisa pointed out. "Do you have some kind of alias?" She frowned. Even if he did, how would they get out of the hotel after?

Caleb shook his head. "Ben does," he reminded her. "We can use his key card, and he'll get away with his friend."

Lisa cocked her head. "What friend?" she asked. She didn't remember discussing this.

"He called him this morning," he explained. "He's a friend from Brooklyn, really good with computers. He'll take Ben's place with the security cameras which gives us another shooter."

"Oh," she replied. That fixed the exit problem. "We should stay at least a few days. It will look suspicious if we check in the day before and then leave right away." She bit her lip, thinking. "Which means that we should go shopping. It's a five star hotel, and we would look out of place without designer clothes. And luggage." She blushed. "Can you buy them? I don't have much money. I mean, I have $2000, and you can have it, but that won't really cover-"

Caleb waved a hand dismissively. "That's fine," he replied, interrupting her. "And you can keep it- I have plenty."

Lisa propped herself on her hand again. "From being a doctor, or an assassin?" she asked. She knew it was probably a rude question, but she was thinking back to Jackson's suit on the plane. At first glance, he had looked rather casual, but years in the hotel had quickly told her that he was wearing a fairly expensive outfit, and had a professional haircut. She was curious as to how much money people in their line of work actually made.

"Some of both," Caleb replied, "But mostly from the agency. It _does_ pay well, but it involves so much tricky accounting. But if you make it out alive, you retire in your forties." Lisa nodded. It wasn't really a surprise. She could only imagine what the had to go through in the modern world to keep their money off the radar.

"Oh hey, I was thinking." Caleb started again. He rubbed the back of his neck. "I think I figured out a way to solve your ID problem." He hesitated. "But it's kind of weird." Lisa stared at him, waiting with impatience. "Want to marry me?"

Her jaw dropped, and he laughed. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I couldn't resist. No, what I meant was, why don't you take Cheryl's ID?" He continued quickly as Lisa watched in stunned silence. "You'd have a social security number, credit cards, money, and a work and credit history. And we could get you a new driver's license without much trouble. You have pretty much the same dimensions, so you would just need a new photo."

"Are you _insane_?" Lisa finally asked. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. How could she take the ID of his soon-to-be-dead wife? That would be so awkward.

"It makes sense," Caleb insisted. "It would give you a place to live as long as you wanted, and we could get a divorce whenever you want. I'm not really asking you to be my wife, not like _that._"

Lisa blushed slightly. "I wasn't thinking that," she assured him. "But I mean, what about her family? Her friends? Her job?"

Caleb shrugged. "She was a runaway. She has no family. She keeps to herself- the only people she really knows are people in the agency. Our neighbors have hardly seen her, and she's only met my friends at our wedding. _And_ I quit her job for her via email already." He sighed. "I know it's weird, but it will give you an ID, and it will save me from having to deal with divorcing someone who has disappeared. I'm not just doing it for you. If I say she left without a trace, I'll be investigated. If I don't say anything, it will be worse if it comes to light later. So I need you as much as you need me."

Lisa sighed. It made sense, but still...it was _weird._ "I don't know," she replied. "It's kind of twisted." Caleb nodded.

"It is," he admitted. "But I still think it would solve one of your problems." He intertwined his fingers nervously. "And if you're worried about Jackson, like I said, we can get a divorce and you can go to New York with money and a chance of getting your own job and place."

Lisa rolled over onto her back. Pragmatically, everything Caleb said made sense. Her only problem was the weird factor. The idea of pretending to be a dead woman, much less a dead woman who had personally hurt both Caleb and Jackson...how could she ever do something like that? And it didn't escape her that things were still unresolved with Jackson, but she would become Mrs. Rippner in the meantime. And the _wrong_ Mrs. Rippner...

Lisa scowled. _Is there a right Mrs. Rippner? _She admonished herself for letting her imagination get away with her. The idea of marrying Jackson was just ridiculous. She wanted to agree with Caleb, and knew that the name should be a formality, but she couldn't shake the feeling that there was no way to pretend that it really was. But was that such a bad thing?

She glanced over to see Caleb watching her. She decided to bounce her idea off of him. He seemed to have an opinion about everything else, so why not? "Would it be pathetic to use this as a response to Jackson trying to force me out?" she asked. She continued when Caleb's only response was to raise an eyebrow. "It _would_ show him that I'm not so easily rid of, _and _keep me from being dependent on the agency, right?"

"Well now," Caleb replied in amusement. "Looks like you've learned how to play the game after all."

Lisa barely contained a proud smile. She had been nagging herself to be more formidable, but now she was ready to prove once and for all that she was perfectly capable of holding her own. "We should definitely get her ring before we kill her." A small voice objected to wearing a dead woman's ring, but Lisa quickly crushed it. The more she thought about it, the more the idea of a completely new ID was liberating. She felt a new rush knowing that in fourteen hours, Lisa Reisert would be officially dead and she would be a new person.

* * *

**Just a little note...my reviewers from chapter 23 received the long version of Jackson's hand breaking story. I think I like doing stuff like that more than previews. I'll still send previews, but I'm just letting everyone know that there's a good chance that I'll write more little side stories and slip them to reviewers. Just a heads up. :)**

**As for the chapter title...I couldn't resist when I saw the song. **

**Reviewers get...Cheryl's ring? I don't know. :P**


	27. Calm Before the Storm

**I realize that both Lisa and Jackson seem to be making "final" decisions only to revert right back to what they were doing before, which I understand can be irritating, but the way I see it is that most of the time, there are only a few hours (if that) between chapters. I think bouncing around is perfectly reasonable. :) They're slowly making progress though.**

**Trudes193-** Caleb is fairly great at explaining stuff. But even he is can't stay logical all the time. :(

**pinky's creature feature-** Oh, he will be...even if he doesn't acknowledge it right away. Our characters are creating quite the mess for themselves.

**Knoknayme-** NO- and trust me, you're not alone. I totally didn't intend for them to have such chemistry, but I _really _have to fight to not let the story go there. :D

**Pirate Gyrl-** Aw, thanks. I was a little nervous about it. I always get antsy when there's not much action, like people will find it boring. :( I liked writing the little side story (as twisted as it got in some places)- I wanted to give Jackson a reason to be a bad shot, and it's always fun for me to write a little backstory. As for Cheryl, I doubt I'll get much into it in the actual story, but in my mind, she's a woman who majorly screwed up, but still thought that she was doing the right thing for herself. She isn't the nicest woman (to say the least), but nice women do not become assassins. But no, she isn't likable, and she definitely isn't trustworthy. We'll see what part she plays...and don't worry- her time is definitely coming to an end.

**Warning: Shit is getting real.**

* * *

**Chapter 26: Calm Before the Storm**

Lisa and Caleb sat at the kitchen bar, waiting for Ben to return. Lisa groaned in frustration and dropped her head onto the counter.

"I want real food," she announced, rolling to rest her cheek against the cool surface.

"Ouch," Caleb replied, not looking up from his crossword puzzle.

Lisa scowled. "I mean nothing with bread. No burgers, no sandwiches. I want pasta. Or steak. Or...something." She sighed. Really, she was getting anxious. She wanted the day to pass quickly and for the night to already be over. She was ready to move onto the next step. "Does it always suck this much?"

"Mhm," he replied, scribbling on his puzzle. Lisa leaned over and scanned the clues. She gaped at Caleb when he pulled the puzzle away from her. Apparently, he was one of _those _people, who had to do a puzzle on their own or it didn't count.

"What kind of doctor are you?" she asked, trying to distract herself. Caleb eyed her with amusement.

"You're really that bored?" he asked, taking a drag of his cigarette.

"I'm not bored," she insisted, even though it was mostly a lie. Well, partially a lie anyway- she was bored, yes, but the problem was that when she was bored, she obsessed about her own problems. "I'm going to be your wife. Can't I know what you do?" She teased, nudging him with her elbow.

"I'm in residency to become a surgeon," he replied casually, filling in another blank. Lisa raised an eyebrow. Was he actually qualified to operate on any of them?

"How did you get time off?" she asked. She didn't know much about medical school and residency, but she couldn't imagine that students could just take off for weeks at a time. She recalled Jackson mentioning something about it previously, but it seemed that he had been wrong.

Caleb took a drink of coffee. "We get three weeks off each year, but I opted out. No point in hanging around at home." Lisa frowned- he wasn't even bothering to hide his bitterness about Cheryl. How bad had their marriage been? "I asked to take them at once- told them my mom had a stroke and I wanted to be there for her. I guess they like me." He took another drag. "As far as they're concerned, I'm in Wisconsin."

Lisa nodded. She started to count the speckles on the counter, trying to avoid the next question that she wanted to ask. Caleb _had_ given her information about his and Jackson's parents back at Jeff's house, but she could tell that he hadn't wanted to talk about it.

"Just ask," Caleb prompted, still not looking at her. Lisa shook her head. Asking for information about their parents and how Jackson handled it was one thing, but she was oddly curious about how Caleb felt. That was very different to her, and she didn't think it was her business. She realized that most of the questions that she asked Caleb were either about the agency, the current situation, or Jackson. She felt a twinge of guilt as she thought about how little she had asked about Caleb himself.

"I'm sorry," she finally blurted. "I've been using you, haven't I?" Caleb finally looked up from his puzzle, slight amusement still showing on his features. He nodded once.

"A little," he replied. "It's fine, though." He took another deep drag. "I get it, and it's not a big deal. Promise." Lisa smiled weakly, but she still felt guilty.

"I'm still willing to listen if you want to talk about Cheryl," she reminded him, lifting her head and reaching over to take a drink from his mug. Caleb nodded, putting out his cigarette in the ashtray.

"I don't really-" he cut himself off as the apartment door opened. "Rain check," he whispered in her ear as Ben entered the apartment, carrying multiple bags on his arm.

"Finally done being your bitch," he announced good-naturedly, dropping the bags at Caleb's feet. He poured himself a mug of coffee. "And how is Miss Brains today?" he asked, leaning against the counter, facing Lisa.

"Caleb proposed," Lisa responded, waiting until he had started to drink. She smiled in satisfaction when he choked on the liquid. "I'm taking Cheryl's ID." Ben pounded on his chest to suppress a cough.

"That's fucking crazy," he told them, laughing, "and _so_ twisted. But I love it. And it will save you from indentured servitude, so right on."

Lisa turned her attention to Caleb as he tossed a small white box on the counter in front of her. Plan B. "Oh my God, you guys," she groaned, mortified. She dropped her head back onto the counter.

"Just take it," Caleb instructed as Ben filled a glass with water and set it in front of her.

"We're all adults here," Ben added with a hint of condescension. "Why do you think we went outside? Jeff's place isn't exactly soundproof."

Lisa shook her head, wishing that she could just disappear. Ben was right of course, but she was more upset that she had been so reckless. How could she _not_ think about the risks? She opened the box and pulled out a pill, washing it down with the water. "Thanks," she muttered, burying her face in her arms.

_How? _The question kept repeating itself in her head. She flinched when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"You'll be fine," Caleb assured her. "And if you're not, well..." Lisa shook her head again.

"No," she replied, her voice muffled. Abortion was not an option for her. She didn't care how inconvenient a baby would be- it just was not an option.

"No point worrying now," Ben offered, surprisingly supportive. "Those pills work- trust me. Everything will be okay, yeah?" Lisa raised her head slightly, studying him. "And hey, since you and Cal are shacking up, just tell the kid _he's_ the dad if you don't want Jackson around or if he dies or something."

Lisa rolled her eyes. So much for serious and supportive. "I mean it," Ben continued. "I read that you can't tell the difference between identical twins in paternity testing, so-"

"Oh shut up," Caleb interrupted. "It's not going to even be an issue, so stop freaking her out."

Ben held up his hands in surrender. "Seriously though," he said, putting a hand on her arm. "This isn't health class. You're not going to get knocked up just because-"

"Shut _up_," Lisa mumbled. She _knew _that the morning after pill was effective. She just wanted the discussion to be over. She knew that she was being paranoid. At the same time, there was a tiny part of her that hoped it would happen. She dreamed of having kids for years, but had written it off as unlikely considering how hesitant she was about getting involved with men. And how fantastic would that be? A fake husband, a false identity, and an illegitimate assassin baby...maybe she could get him a set of throwing stars on his first day of kindergarten. _Stop._

Lisa lifted her head, turning her attention to the bags at Caleb's feet. "So what else did you get?" she asked, forcefully changing the subject. She was done thinking about something that wouldn't happen anyway.

"Guns, ammo, flint, and reloading equipment," Ben replied, taking the hint. "And a throwaway cell for Cal. Oh, and I got you a phone charger." Lisa smiled in thanks- hers had died while she was sleeping.

"Oh, could you text Jackson and let him know to check into the hotel?" Caleb asked, picking up the bags as he got to his feet. "We have to go shopping and get checked in. We don't have that much time before tonight."

Lisa watched Ben pull out his cell phone. "How are we going to get Cheryl out?" she asked, walking to get their bags from the bedroom.

"We're just going to go to Jeff's place," Caleb called out. "Ben already called Jeff and let him know that we're going to take care of her."

Lisa walked back into the living room. "Does he know that I'm still here?" she asked nervously. She didn't want him to be able to thwart their plans. Caleb shook his head.

"Not yet," he replied. "But he will when we get Cheryl. There's no avoiding it." Lisa understood, but it still made her nervous that Jackson could step in. Other than that, she wasn't nervous about seeing him again. She wasn't afraid of him- he might put up a fight at first, but she was sure that if she stood her ground, he would accept her decision.

"So I talked to him this morning," Ben announced, interrupting their conversation. "He requested his trainees, and Nikita will be here tomorrow morning. So I was thinking..."

Lisa followed the two men, lagging slightly behind. She was too involved in her own thoughts to listen to Ben. Even though she knew that Jackson wouldn't hurt her, she couldn't help but wonder how he would react to their disobedience. She swore that if Jackson wanted her to leave, he was going to have to drag her by the hair, kicking and screaming to the airport and personally put her on the flight. And even then, she wasn't going to let _him_ go.

* * *

"What the hell are you doing?" Jackson set down his newspaper to focus his attention on Cheryl's outburst. He watched Jeff attempt to pull off her wedding ring, his efforts prevented by her curling her fingers.

"Cal called. He wants it," Jeff replied matter-of-factly, as though it wasn't a strange request.

"No," Cheryl said stubbornly, trying to pull her hands away. "Why would he want it?" Jackson took a slow drag of his cigarette. He was wondering the same thing. He couldn't imagine Caleb trying to pawn it- he didn't need the money. If it was something weird like sentimental value, why not wait until he saw her again?

"He didn't say," Jeff replied, frustrated. He turned to face Jackson, who raised an eyebrow. Was he expected to mediate like some father with two fighting children? "Ben sent me a text," Jeff explained to Jackson. "Cal wants me to meet them with her ring and purse."

Jackson shrugged. He wasn't all that concerned with what his brother wanted at the moment. He knew it was childish, but he wasn't happy about hearing that Caleb had decided to stick around. He knew that his brother was going to try to involve himself in the Keefe business, which was exactly why Jackson had sent him away in the first place. He studied the embers of his cigarette, chewing his lip. He wanted to find some way to get Caleb out of Miami, but they were at the point where there wasn't anything he could do about it. Maybe he could talk him out of it.

"I'll take them to him," he offered. He needed to get out of the house anyway- he was feeling too anxious about things, and some air would help. "Where does Ben live?"

"Camden Brickell," Jeff replied, tossing Cheryl's purse next to Jackson. "Oh yeah, they're not there anymore, though. I'm meeting them at Armani." Jeff's second sentence fell on deaf ears. _Camden Brickell_. Lisa's building? Ben and Lisa lived in the same building? Jackson furrowed his brows, pulling out his cell phone. He had had enough of this shit. He quickly dialed Ben's number and got to his feet.

"Give him the ring or I'll shoot off your finger," he told Cheryl calmly as he walked out the front door and into the sunny afternoon. "Why didn't you tell me you live at Camden Brickell?" he demanded when Ben answered the phone.

"You never asked," Ben replied flatly. Jackson clenched his jaw, pursing and relaxing his lips. He didn't reply, knowing that Ben was well aware that his answer was unacceptable and unappreciated. He took a drag of his cigarette, dropping onto the front steps. "It's irrelevant now anyway. And I'm busy, so I'll talk to you later."

Jackson stared at his phone in disbelief. He debated calling back, but quickly dismissed the idea. He wasn't used to feeling so...ignored. He and Ben rarely got along in the last few years, but Ben knew his place. And Caleb...Jackson shook his head. Why didn't Caleb understand that he was in danger?

He glanced down as his phone rang in his hand. _Marie. _Jackson frowned, flipping open his phone.

"Hey," he greeted. What could Marie possibly want? He was greeted by cold French.

"What is Ben's real name?" she asked, all-business. Jackson's frown deepened.

"I don't remember," he lied. He couldn't explain it, but something told him that he needed to play dumb. "Why?"

Marie sighed deeply. "He has betrayed us," she replied. "He is part of Odessa." Jackson crushed his cigarette under his shoe. He was well aware of Ben's involvement in the Russian mafia back in Brooklyn. Ben had told them back in college that his uncle was high up, which was why he was one of few people who went into the agency already using a false identity.

"What?" he asked, feigning confusion. Jackson and Caleb had sworn years ago to keep Ben's secret, since the agency had never been on good terms with the mafia. Under normal circumstances, despite Jackson's dislike for Ben, he would never believe that the other man could be any kind of traitor to the agency. After what happened with Cheryl, he wasn't so sure, but he decided to hear Marie out before laying down his cards.

"Just what I said," Marie replied. "He was part of the plot." Jackson's eyes narrowed as he lit another cigarette. He was smoking so much more than he normally would. He fought back an urge to laugh. The Odessa Mafia had no interest in the agency, and vice versa. They never conflicted. Odessa also had no ties with the Russians Robert had been working with, and to suggest so was ludicrous. However, the situation wasn't at all funny because Jackson knew Marie was smarter than that. She was definitely up to something. He heard a notification of an incoming call, and moved the phone from his ear to check the ID- _Trudi. _She would have to wait.

"So what do you want me to do?" he asked, although he knew the answer already. He felt guilty playing Marie, but something in his gut said that he shouldn't trust her. On the other hand, Ben's lie regarding Lisa was nagging at him. Even if Marie were lying to him, maybe there was something more to the situation that Jackson wasn't seeing yet.

"I assume that he is helping you with Keefe," she replied. "When you finish the job, keep an eye on him. Do not let him out your sight. Then kill him." Jackson exhaled deeply, shaking his head.

"Alright," he said, pinning his phone between his cheek and his shoulder as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'll take care of it." He closed his phone, setting it next to him before running a hand through his hair in frustration. What a mess.

Jackson picked up his phone again. He had to forge ahead with the plan. He couldn't decide what to do about Ben until he had a chance to figure out exactly what was going on, and he couldn't afford to obsess about it in the meantime. He dialed Trudi's number, waiting for her to answer.

"Hello," the cherry Brit greeted him. Jackson sometimes wondered how could she could always been in such a good mood. "I just wanted to let you know that the trainees are on their way. They should be in Miami by six."

"Good," Jackson replied. Then curiosity got the better of him. "And how's Lisa doing?"

Trudi was silent for a moment. "What are you talking about?" she asked, obviously confused. Jackson frowned.

"Didn't you arrange a pick up from the airport like I asked?" he asked, irritated. Did Trudi really leave Lisa stranded at La Guardia?

"She never showed up," Trudi told him. "I thought you changed your mind." Jackson froze midway through his drag. He exhaled quickly.

"Oh yeah," he lied. "I must be overworked or something." He smashed his cigarette. "Thanks, Trudi." He quickly hung up, getting to his feet. Did Lisa disobey him too? Jeff had told him that Ben was taking her to the airport. Did they lie? No, his guy must have just missed Lisa in the airport. That had to be it.

If Lisa was stuck at the airport, he had to help her. Even as Jackson quickly dialed her number, he knew full well that she wasn't in New York. _That's_ what she had meant with her parting words in the bathroom. She was so stupid sometimes. Jackson's jaw clenched when his call went straight to voicemail. Either her phone was dead, or she had shut it off. He paced in a small circle. Caleb had ditched Jackson's phone at the hotel, so he couldn't get ahold of him. Ben wasn't going to answer.

The more he paced, the more Jackson's frustration grew. Lisa, Caleb, and Ben had obviously formed some little alliance against him. Marie wanted him to kill Ben. Ben was up to something. And he was still stuck babysitting Cheryl while he waited for his cannon fodder to arrive, the dumb kids that he was sending to their deaths.

His internal temper tantrum was interrupted by Jeff appearing on the front steps. "I have to meet Cal and Ben now," he said hesitantly. "So..."

Jackson nodded abruptly, regaining his composure. "And Lisa," he added, shaking his head at the other man's confused expression. "Never mind. Tell Ben to call me. And get me some clothes while you're out- nice stuff. Hurry back." He walked past Jeff and back into the house, dropping on the couch in front of Cheryl.

He sprawled out on the couch, sighing deeply as he rolled his neck. Everything was falling to shit around him.

* * *

"That was a genius plan," Ben told Caleb as they pulled away from the salon, leaving Lisa behind. She had decided to get her hair done to help look the part of the rich woman. "Are you sure it's okay?"

Caleb shook his head, sighing. "No, I'm not," he replied. "But what else could I do?" Before Ben had left that morning, he had told Caleb that Marie had called him the day before, ordering him to kill Lisa when she arrived in Miami.

"_I do not need her in the way," Marie explained to Ben. "She is a distraction for Jackson, and he might leave." Ben scoffed._

"_And how am I supposed to do that?" he asked condescendingly. "I doubt that he's going to let me babysit her."_

"_That is your problem, not mine," she replied sharply. "If you recall, you are part of a team that has been plotting to destroy part of my agency, __**and **__you lied about who you are. You need to earn your place again, Benjamin." Ben brought his fist down hard on the kitchen counter._

"_And if __**you **__recall," he snapped back, "I warned you not to get involved with those guys." The Russians that Robert was working with had claimed to be part of the government, but Ben knew that they were in a new group of organized crime, a growing rival to the mafia. He hadn't trusted them for a moment. He had taken a chance, had told Marie about his connections. He had explained that from what he knew, the information regarding the Georgians was correct, but their contacts weren't who they claimed to be._

_Instead of listening, Marie had ignored him and was now throwing it back in his face. "Benjamin, listen to me." Ben shook his head._

"_No, you listen," he spat. He had had enough. "I'm going to help Jackson with Robert and Keefe," he said, talking right over the director. "But after that, I quit. I'm fucking done with this." Marie was silent, but not for long._

"_Think about this for a moment, Benjamin," she said coldly. "Do not forget that we can destroy you. We can-" Ben abruptly closed his phone, and poured himself a glass of whiskey. He had heard stories about getting a high from quitting a shit job, but he didn't feel any kind of adrenaline- only fear._

"Well, it was still a good thing to do," he told Caleb. The other man nodded, but remained silent. He knew that he had sold Lisa on the idea, but he wasn't as convinced as he had sounded. He didn't dislike Lisa in any way, but he wasn't sure that he wanted to have her stay with him. Any woman would be bad enough, but Lisa? She was involved with his brother _and _assassins were after her. In a cruel twist of irony, the same reasons that Caleb didn't want her staying with her were the exact reasons that he had to allow it.

"I still think you should tell Jackson," Caleb reminded him. Ben had already refused to twice, insisting that Jackson wouldn't believe him, but Caleb still wasn't sure. Sure enough, Ben shook his head. "Well, I will," Caleb insisted. It would have to wait, though- it wasn't the kind of conversation he wanted to have over the phone. After all, the worst thing Jackson could do was not believe them. "And I'm telling Lisa- she has a right to know."

Ben shrugged. "Do what you want." He stopped at a red light and gripped the steering wheel tightly, rotating his hand around the leather nervously. "Do you think she'll have _him_ do it?" Caleb frowned, resting his hand on the window frame and drumming his fingers.

"Probably," he replied glumly. Jackson was the only capable agency employee in Miami- Marie definitely wouldn't leave this kind of a hit to trainees. The only real question was, would Jackson actually do it?

"Then it's him or me," Ben replied darkly. "He obeys her like some puppy. It's disgusting." Caleb rested his head on his palm. He thought Ben was exaggerating, but he had been out of the game for almost six years. When he and Jackson did talk, it was almost never about the job, so Caleb couldn't say anymore exactly how devoted his brother was to the director. He knew that Ben and Jackson didn't get along, but they had known each other for ten years and had been roommates for six years, spending two of those years as teammates. Caleb couldn't imagine that Jackson would kill Ben just because Marie ordered, but he just couldn't be sure.

What would his role be, when the time came? Would he have to stand back and see which person came out on top- one of his best friends, or his own brother? Or would he have to take a side, help one of them kill the other? Normally he would side with Jackson without question, but Ben just didn't deserve a hit.

Caleb rubbed the back of his neck, feeling an oncoming headache. There was no avoiding it- he was bitter. He was angry about everything- Cheryl, Lisa, Ben, his parents, the despicable things he had done, and Jackson. He had walked out of the agency so long ago. He had been out three times longer than he had been in, and yet here he was, entrenched in this mess. He had had the option of walking out, but the option was a formality. It didn't really exist. And why was he stuck? Jackson. Maybe his brother had the right idea- maybe Caleb was better off without him.

* * *

Lisa followed Caleb through the airport. She practically had to run to keep up with him. He had been moody since they picked her up from the salon, and had hardly said a word throughout their shopping excursion. She had wanted to ask what was wrong more than once, but she knew that the response, whether or not he actually said it, would have been 'take your pick'. So she stayed quiet, trying to give him space.

Ben had dropped them off at the airport before heading to the hotel himself. Since they were going to use his room card for their plan, Caleb and Lisa could not be associated with him. They were heading for the exit to catch a town car, pretending that they had just arrived in Miami.

Caleb stopped abruptly, and Lisa almost barreled into him. He ushered her to a more secluded area, and opened his shoulder bag. "Here," he said shortly, handing her Cheryl's purse. "In case they ask for an ID- hopefully they won't look too closely." He fished in his jacket pocket, and pulled out a diamond ring. His eyes lingered on the band for a few moments before he took her hand, sliding the ring on her finger. After a few more moments of hesitation, he dropped her hand, zipping up his bag again.

"Caleb," Lisa began softly. She could see how much pain he was in, and wished she could help. He shook his head.

"Not here," he said, cutting her off. He glanced at her hand once more before turning around and walking again. Lisa sighed sadly and rushed after him. Hopefully when they were in their room, she could get him to open up. She knew that there wasn't anything she could do to fix his problems, but maybe just talking would help him. He had been there for her many times in the last two days, and she felt like it was her turn.

The drive to the hotel was nothing but awkward. Caleb had perked up, trying to pass for a young husband on a vacation in paradise with his wife, and he was actually doing well, but Lisa could see through it. She attempted to match his behavior, but doubted that she was as convincing.

At the hotel, Caleb played the part of the gentleman to perfection, taking her arm as he escorted her to reception. Lisa thought about her time as the manager of the Lux Atlantic, remembering all of the rich women who had passed through the lobby. She tried to imitate them, keeping her head held high, barely glancing at her surroundings as though luxury had become blasé. She didn't acknowledge the bellboy that took her luggage as they arrived at the desk.

She hardly noticed Caleb's conversation with the receptionist- she was too nervous. They were finally at the Pointe, and Keefe, someone who could easily recognize her, not to mention someone that she was going to help murder. was around somewhere. She was completely in public, and if anyone asked to see her ID...she wasn't _that _similar to Cheryl. She could feel the tension in Caleb's arm, and knew that he wasn't any more comfortable than she was.

"Lisa?" Lisa turned her head in reflex at the voice behind her, only to find Caleb's fingers on her cheek, preventing her from moving. Thinking quickly, he leaned in and pressed his lips firmly to hers, wrapping his other arm around her waist. When Caleb gently deepened the kiss, Lisa tensed, but she didn't attempt to pull away, bringing up her hand to rest it in his hair. He finally pulled away from her, and she saw his eyes dart around before he flashed a smile. Lisa feebly returned the smile, but her insides were churning. She slid her hand down to grip Caleb's hand tightly, silently begging him to get her to their room.

Caleb gave her hand a quick squeeze as he pulled her toward the elevator. As the doors closed around them, Lisa's knees practically gave out from under her.

"How could someone recognize me so quickly?" she cried, leaning against the elevator wall. Caleb's smile had faded, and he watched her with a deadly serious expression.

"No one recognized you," he explained flatly. "That guy was calling for a different woman." Lisa pulled her hand from his, hiding her face. She had almost ruined everything.

"Shit happens," Caleb explained calmly as he stepped closer to her, his face now full of concern. "But you can't let it throw you off- that's why we work in teams, to back each other up."

Lisa shook her head. "It was so stupid," she argued. "A stupid mistake." The rational voice in Lisa's head reminded her that she had spent twenty six years responding to Lisa, and it wouldn't be _that _easy to stop. She glanced up at Caleb, her face suddenly warmer as she sucked her lower lip.

"Um," she began awkwardly, shifting her weight to her other foot, "sorry that you had to kiss me."

Caleb tried to remain serious, but Lisa could see a mischievous grin fighting its way through. "Yeah," he replied, clearing his throat in an attempt to hide his amusement. "Totally uncalled for. Don't make me do anything like that ever again."

Lisa's face flushed deeply, but she still grinned in spite of herself. Caleb nudged her with his elbow, and the two broke out into soft laughter. Lisa was happy to see him lighten up, even if his amusement did come at her expense.

They were barely in their room before being met by the bellboy with their luggage. Caleb tipped him and sent him on his way. When they were alone, he turned to Lisa, his expression serious again. "We need to talk."

* * *

Jackson tucked his newspaper under his arm, sliding off the bar stool. He had watched the scene unfold in the lobby, and was attempting to make sense of it. It was lucky for them that Caleb had stepped in so quickly- Lisa could have given away their position.

_Stepped in? He stuck his tongue down her throat._ Jackson quickly finished his glass of whiskey, and straightened his tie. He knew that Caleb had done the right thing, and that he probably would have done the same in his place, but jealousy still nagged at him. That kiss looked too real for Jackson's comfort, despite his best efforts to convince himself that it was part of the act.

He had seen the ring on Lisa's finger- Cheryl's ring. It was getting more and more confusing. Obviously they hadn't run off and gotten married- Jackson wasn't insane- but why was Lisa wearing Cheryl's ring? Jackson headed for the elevator, where Ben stood, waiting. He was through with being undermined, and determined to get some answers.

He casually entered the elevator, waiting for the doors to close before turning to face Ben. He remained silent, waiting for the taller man to speak first. "They make quite a pair, don't they?" Ben asked, barely suppressing a grin. Jackson rolled his eyes. The day Ben was straight with him was the day Jackson became a professional florist. "Oh, relax," the other man admonished, checking his watch, "Caleb offered Cheryl's identity to Lisa so she wouldn't have to be trapped by you."

Jackson raised his eyebrows, taken aback. "'Trapped' is a strong word, wouldn't you say?" Ben shook his head, turning to look Jackson in the eye.

"No," he replied coldly. "When you deliberately give a person a _fraction_ of an identity when you know full well that we could find something better for her, just so she has no other option than to stay with you, I would say that 'trapping' is putting it mildly."

Jackson turned to face the elevator panel. "Don't be dramatic," he snapped. "She wouldn't have known what to do with a full identity." Jackson could try to convince himself of this, but even he knew that it was bullshit. He had fully intended to give her a completely new life and send her on her way, but even as he reminded himself early on that the idea of them together was absurd, he _had _wanted to make sure that she stayed close to him.

Ben laughed. "Okay, sure," he replied, obviously unconvinced. "But while you work to keep her stuck with you because it's what _you _want, Cal is helping her to be able to stand on her own by _letting_ her, not _forcing _her, into his life, which _isn't_ what he wants." He sobered again. "They probably _would _make a good pair, but luckily for you, Lisa sees Cal as a way to find out more about you, and he's too wrapped up in Cheryl to think about other women." He laughed bitterly. "And you pretend to care about what they want."

The elevator came to a stop, and Jackson followed at Ben's heels. He knew that Ben was wrong- he _did _care. Why else would he have been trying to send them away? It wasn't his fault that they chose to stick around. "Why didn't you tell me that you know Lisa?" he demanded, conveniently ignoring Ben's dig regarding Lisa and Caleb as some kind of couple- he refused to even consider it.

Ben slid his key card into the door, stepping into his room and pushing the door open to allow Jackson to follow. "Don't worry," he said, tossing the card on a nearby table. "I won't tell Lisa shit. It's none of my business." He pulled a bottle of water from the mini-bar, sitting in a chair near the window. "I didn't tell you about where I live because I didn't want anything to do with your little plan." He unscrewed the lid and took a drink as Jackson sat in the chair across from him, crossing his arms. "She's my friend, and I didn't want to be the one to hurt her."

Jackson ran a hand through his hair. "It wasn't _my_ plan," he reminded the assassin. "And you know Robert would have been worse with her." He was used to jabs from Ben, and had learned years ago that it was better to not acknowledge half of what the man said.

Ben nodded. "True," he conceded, "but that's my reason. Good enough?"

Jackson eyed him for a moment, studying his former friend. He finally nodded, deciding that Ben's explanation was reasonable. He still had questions, but there were other people that he would rather be talking to. And it wasn't merely a question of whether or not he should kill Ben- he also had to consider the consequences of deciding not to, and that kind of decision just couldn't be made after one discussion. He got to his feet, deciding to postpone their conversation for the time being. He had read Lisa and Caleb's room number from the receptionist's lips in the lobby- it was time to pay the Rippners a visit.

Jackson headed for the door, and heard Ben following him. "I know Marie's orders," he announced, causing Jackson to stop in his tracks. "And you do what you have to, but I won't run." Jackson crossed his arms again, trying to keep a neutral face as he leaned against the wall, but it was difficult to pretend that the aspect of killing a man who he had once called a friend wasn't eroding what was left with his sanity. "If it comes down to that," Ben continued, "when the job is over, we're going to settle this."

Jackson forced a smirk. "Pistols at dawn?" he asked with light sarcasm.

Ben grinned. "Something like that," he replied dryly, and walked away. Jackson turned to walk out the door. "Oh," Ben added from behind him, prompting him to turn around again. "A couple of thins you might find interesting. I was going to take Lisa to the airport like you wanted. I thought she was useless, but she talked me out of it." He shrugged. "Technically Cal did first, but she sealed the deal. And our plan for Cheryl tonight? It wasn't my idea, and it wasn't Cal's..._Lisa _came up with it, and it's pretty good. _And _she's helping to get a back up plan for you tomorrow. Maybe she isn't as helpless as you think."

Jackson nodded shortly. "Fascinating," he replied coldly, and walked out. He shook his head as he walked down the hallway. Ben was wrong about one thing- he had known Lisa wasn't helpless since their first flight. But he did realize that he had underestimated her yet again. As much as it irritated him that she insisted on putting herself at risk, it made him love the fiery former-redhead even more.

Jackson stepped in the elevator, pressing the button for the twenty-seventh floor. He sighed deeply. He had prided himself for years on being able to read a situation and know the solution, but she was such a game changer. When it came to Lisa, nothing he did was right- if he opened up to her, he was pulling her further into his twisted world and putting her life at risk. If he pushed her away, he was an asshole.

He had to face facts. A few days ago, sending her on her way would have been the right thing, and probably would have worked. Instead, he had let his emotions get the better of him, second-guessed everything, and now that opportunity was gone. She wasn't going anywhere unless _she _decided that it was time. Unless...well, unless he made her hate him. And he certainly knew how he could do it. But no- Jackson had done many disgusting things in his life, but he didn't have it in him to hurt her like _that._

Jackson exited the elevator, and made his way to 2701. He raised his fist to knock, but leaned forward, gently resting his forehead on the door, his palm flat against the polished wood. He finally figured it out. His actions kept coming out wrong because he was making the decisions himself. He thought back to the airport, when he had finally broken down and kissed Lisa. He had realized that what he wanted was a connection, but a connection required two parts coming together on equal terms.

He loved Lisa, and she loved him. So it was too late for him to make a unilateral decision. He had to lay it all down, and let her decide what she wanted to do. Hopefully he could make her see reason, and she would leave Miami as quickly as possible. And hopefully she would refuse.

* * *

**Okay, I promise that we're reaching the end of Jackson's little seesaw. He ****_will_**** go out with a bang though. :D**

**R&R- I've already started working on a little side story for those who review this chapter...but I'm not telling what it's about. :P They tend to be longer than a PM, so if you guys could PM me with your email addresses, it would be easier to send it. If you want to stick to PMs, it's totally fine, but if not, please write it like this: dick0382 umn . edu or the censor will delete your email address. is mean like that.**


	28. Straight Up

**I promised that Jackson would be featured in this chapter, and I didn't lie- this chapter is only from Jackson's POV. I figured that we needed it. :D Weird thing happened- chapter 26 got more hits than chapter 25. Not sure how that happened. :P The review count is still dropping...I'm not sure if people aren't liking where the story is going or what. But as always, thanks to those who _did _review, and I hope you enjoyed the little game night story. Check out my responses to Pirate Gyrl and Knoknayme to see exactly what reviews can do for me and this story. :)**

**Pirate Gyrl- **You have to remember that Marie found out that Ben was lying about who he was from day one, and that he has ties to the Russian mafia in Brighton Beach. She really doesn't trust him, and now he's refused to be her bitch _and _quit. It's not like she can just let him walk away. And we might have to find out what she'll do if Jackson refuses- that's definitely playing into his decision.

Originally Nikita was a guy to me (I've always thought it was a guy's name), but just for you, she's a woman now. :) And I totally picture the trainees in red shirts, too. And you gave me an idea for this chapter when you reminded me of La Femme Nikita- Lisa gets her badass on.

As for his seesaw emotions going out with a bang...you'll see. :D

**trudes193- **Jackson can't bring himself to be physically violent to her, as he realized in chapter 26.

**Knoknayme-** I 100% added that scene because of your ch. 25 review- you inspired me to push Caleb and Lisa a little further. And it gave me more for Jackson to think about, so thanks! :)

**CharliRenee123- **Your reviews light a fire under my ass. You make me think even harder about my characters and help me make sure that they're staying true. Thank you so much! As for your idea of a Jackson/Mama reunion, what do you have in mind, out of curiosity? Should she really be part of the agency or something similar, or just a normal woman living somewhere in Wisconsin? How do you think Jackson would meet up with her again?

**WARNING: This chapter gets fairly explicit.**

* * *

**Chapter 27: Straight Up**

Jackson finally raised his fist again to knock gently on the room door.

"What?" he heard Caleb snap from inside, and was taken aback by his brother's sharp tone.

"It's me," he replied, chalking up Caleb's anger to nerves. It wasn't exactly easy for any of them. He stepped back, startled, when the door was flung open.

"What do you want?" Caleb demanded, propping his arm on the frame to block the doorway. Jackson sighed. He knew that he deserved Caleb's harsh attitude. It was a long time coming, really. He crossed his arms and took another step back, rocking back on his heels.

"I need to talk to your wife," he replied sharply, staring at the ground. He glanced up at Caleb, who wasn't impressed. Jackson sighed. "Sorry," he said, dropping his gaze again. "Ben explained it, and I do get it." He got it, but he didn't especially like the idea. He knew that it was pragmatically a good idea, but he couldn't pretend that it didn't provoke a sharp pang of jealousy.

Caleb stood his ground, and Jackson wasn't sure what to say next. He couldn't very well shove his brother out of the way, but he _needed _to talk to Lisa.

"Not now." Caleb shook his head, and started to back away to shut the door in Jackson's face, but his arm was caught by Lisa, who had appeared in the doorway.

"It's fine," she insisted, still holding his arm. "Do we have time?" Caleb turned his head to look at her, nodding. He leaned down and whispered in her ear. Jackson ran his hand through his hair, again uncomfortable by how easily they inhabited each other's space. He turned away from them, sighing heavily. _You're being fucking ridiculous- get your shit together. They're __**friends**_.

Caleb brushed past Jackson, shooting him a final dark glance as he walked down the hallway. Jackson frowned, taking a step to go after him. He stopped, remembering why he had come to their room. Talking to Caleb would have to wait yet again. On the back burner, as usual.

Jackson shook his head one more time, trying to focus, and turned around. Lisa still stood in the doorway, her arms crossed. She turned to the side, allowing Jackson to walk into the room. He did so, walking toward the table where a set of reloading equipment was spread out along with a pile of bullets. He picked up a bullet, and held it up, studying the hole that had been drilled through the middle.

"So..." he began, his back still to Lisa. He didn't even know where to start. It was all overwhelming to Jackson. He couldn't get the image of that kiss out of his mind, and combined with Ben's words about how Caleb and Lisa would be better together, not to mention his own observations, Jackson's typical self-confidence was quickly crumbling. He had seen how comfortable they were together, and he knew how much they had to trust each other for either of them to go along with the new identity plan.

He was so torn- on one hand, he knew that he had been trying to do the right thing by sending them away from Miami. But at the same time, he knew that he hadn't gone about it the right way, and now things were even more of a mess.

Jackson tensed when Lisa wrapped her hand around his. "Just talk to me," she implored, pulling the bullet from his fingers and setting it on the table. She walked in between Jackson and the table, intertwining her fingers in his.

He scoffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You still don't get it," he replied, frustrated. "I can't 'just talk to you.'" _I can't even __**think **__straight around you. _Lisa frowned, releasing his hand.

"Well, I'm willing to listen," she responded, putting her hands on her hips, "but if you can't talk to me, then you might as well walk away now." She chewed her bottom lip. "But I don't want you to walk away, just so you know."

Jackson turned to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with her, leaning against the table. "I told you it wouldn't be overnight," he reminded her, bracing himself against the table with both hands and staring at his feet. "And how long ago did I say that? Oh yeah- _yesterday_."

Lisa stomped one foot on the carpet. "I'm not asking you to just become a new person," she snapped. "If I wanted a different person, I would have left- a _long_ time ago." Jackson crossed his arms, still not looking at her.

"Then what _do _you want?" he asked honestly. He bit his lip to keep from asking about his brother.

Lisa unwrapped her wrist and removed the depressor, setting both on the table. "I want _you_," she replied, rotating her wrist slowly. "But I want you to just be a little more open with me. And I want you to take me into consideration." She leaned against the table, matching Jackson's posture. "I'm not saying that you have to do what I say, but I feel like I'm just a pretty little empty head to you sometimes."

Jackson squeezed his eyes closed tightly. He never wanted to give her that impression, but he could easily see how she got it. "I don't think you're empty," he insisted. "But..." He wanted to apologize, say that he would try to do better, but the words caught in his throat. He reached over and put an arm around Lisa, pulling her close to him. He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "You're not empty at all," he assured her, hoping that it would be enough.

Lisa turned toward Jackson, resting her head on his chest. "Then stop treating me like it," she replied, but there was no accusation in her tone- only a demand delivered in a way that only Lisa could. Jackson squeezed her tightly.

"Why didn't you get on that plane?" he finally asked, sighing when Lisa pulled away.

"Why did you try to put me on it?" she countered, walking over to the glass balcony doors. Jackson frowned, staying in his spot.

"You know why," he replied, frustrated. He knew that he had explained this already. "It's too dangerous for you."

Lisa spun on her heel, looking at him skeptically. "That's not why," she insisted, crossing her arms again. "You said that you're _ruining _me, and that you're no good for me."

Jackson brought his fist down on the table softly. "And I meant it," he replied.

"And you've said it a million times," Lisa shot back, obviously irritated. "You're no good for me, you're a monster, if I really knew you, I'd run away..." She sighed heavily. "On and on and _on_."

Jackson crossed his arms defensively. "And I _meant it_," he repeated firmly. He refused to believe that Lisa didn't understand where he was coming from. She couldn't stand there and pretend that she had never been torn between two ideas- Hell, she couldn't pretend that she hadn't been torn during the entire trip.

"It's not right," she insisted. "You tell me you love me, you have sex with me- and maybe it's not a big deal to you, but you know that it's a big deal to me." Jackson opened his mouth to respond, but closed it just as quickly. He knew that he had to hear her out. "But then you keep saying these things like you _want _me to leave. This isn't exactly comfortable for me, either, you know."

She wiped a tear from her eye, her voice breaking. "You know that I've preferred to be alone, and I get the feeling that you have, too." Jackson stared hard at the ground, resisting the urge to walk over and hold her close. If he let her stop now, the moment would be over, and he could see that it was important to her to get it all off her chest. "But we've both left our comfort zones, right?" Jackson nodded, shifting his weight to his heels.

Lisa turned away from him again, now crying freely. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep pushing myself to be honest with myself when you keep trying to tell me I'm wrong, and that what I want is wrong?" she asked, her voice rising rapidly. "I need to know that you're going to be there, even if it's hard, because it _is_."

Jackson gritted his teeth, wanting so badly to defend himself. "And don't ever say that you're ruining me again," she continued softly. She buried her face in her hands and then ran them through her hair. "This is the best I've been in a long time. I'm strong, and I know who I am. I _like _who I am. And it wasn't _because _of you, or _in spite _of you. It's because you supported me while_ I_ figured it out." She ran her hands though her hair again. "And I'm trying to be your support, but you need to let me. So figure out what you want, and stop backing down from it."

Jackson buried his face in his hands, sighing deeply. He was _not _used to someone like Lisa. He had come to the room expecting that he would need to learn how to grovel if he wanted her back, but she was having none of it. She didn't want to hear his apologies or excuses. It was obvious that he wouldn't be able to convince her to leave, and he didn't really want to anymore. It was probably the best idea, but he just didn't care.

Jackson quickly crossed over to Lisa, wrapping his arm around her ribs from behind. He grabbed her chin in his hands and turned her to face him. "I want _you_," he murmured, his lips pressing against the corner of her mouth as his hand slid to gently grip her throat. There was so much more that he wanted to say, but there were just no words. Maybe it made him selfish, but he wanted her with him.

Lisa leaned her head against his cheek, breathing deeply. "And you're sure?" she asked. "You're not going to go back on it in a few hours?" Her question was serious, but her tone was teasing, and Jackson couldn't help but chuckle.

"I'm sure," he replied firmly, brushing his lips against hers. "Are you?" Lisa turned in his arms and kissed him deeply. She twisted her arms from his grip and brought them up to tangle her fingers in his hair. Jackson slid his hand down to her lower back, pulling her tightly against him. She responded by leaning back and sliding her hands along his tie, pulling it away from his neck. Jackson allowed her to yank off his jacket and toss it to the side.

Jackson desperately wanted to rip off her blazer, but knew that Lisa still needed the outfit. He wondered briefly if she had deliberately chosen an outfit so similar to what she had been wearing when they first met. He quickly skimmed his hand down the front of her jacket, undoing her buttons and roughly throwing the item on the floor. He then attacked the buttons of her top, nipping at Lisa's neck in frustration over how long it was taking. Lisa worked the buttons on his shirt at the same time and pressed against him, the warm skin of their torsos colliding.

Jackson groaned in frustration, holding Lisa's arms tightly to keep her on her feet as he quickly headed for the bed. At the last moment, Lisa grabbed Jackson's shirt collar and spun him around, shoving him down on the bed and pulling off his shoes and socks. He propped himself up on his elbows, watching Lisa climb over him and loosen his belt. "Do you trust me?" she asked softly, yanking off his belt and sliding off his pants and underwear. Jackson nodded slowly, feeling oddly vulnerable. Lisa was almost fully clothed, and he was completely naked except for his open shirt.

Lisa nodded once, and walked away from him. "Don't move," she commanded. Jackson watched her with curiosity, and then raw desire when she slowly slid off her shirt and tossed her bra aside. The light from the setting sun created a soft glow on her skin, and Jackson clenched his hands into fists. He wanted her so badly, but he forced himself to stay on the bed. He bit down hard on his bottom lip as she removed her skirt and panties. _Jesus. _

Jackson quickly reversed his previous position as he studied her gorgeously feminine body- he had never seen a more beautiful woman. He had seen her naked before, but he had never taken the time to really look at her. His nails dug into his palms- he wanted to caress that delicious skin. It was far from flawless- he could see her scars and faint bruises- but it added to her appeal. She wasn't a china doll.

His heart tightened in his chest when he saw her reach into her bag and pull out a gun. She reached for a magazine, loading the gun with a solid _click_, lifting her gaze to make eye contact with him. "Are you sure?" she asked, but he saw the dare in her fiery eyes and heard it in her voice. He hesitated for a split second, but then rose to the challenge, nodding again.

Lisa approached Jackson, each step deliberate. She crawled over him, dropping her head to capture his lips in a sensual kiss. Jackson eyed the gun in her hand, and could see that the safety was off. His heart hammered in his throat, but he closed his eyes, returning her kiss. He knew what she was doing- she was testing him. She had to know that he was well aware that something could easily go wrong, and one of them could end up with another bullet in their body.

She was seeing if he could literally trust her with his life. He had done so back in the car when the Russians were chasing them, but that was out of necessity. This was a choice. He understood that he could tell her to stop at any point, and she would listen.

Jackson refused to break eye contact as Lisa slowly brought the gun to his head, breaking their kiss. He had put her through too much in the last few days, and this was his way of showing her that he _had _made a final decision. Lisa slowly lowered herself onto him with a sharp groan, and Jackson shuddered at the sensation. She felt so mind-blowing.

He leaned forward, burying his face into her neck as he waited for her to adjust. He sucked her neck gently, feeling the rapid beating of her pulse through his lips, knowing that she was just as terrified as he was. Lisa leaned back and stroked Jackson's hip with one hand, coaxing him to bend his knees and give her the chance to wrap her arm back around his thigh. She arched her back, using her arm for support as she began to slowly bounce, letting out small gasps with each fall of her body. Jackson closed his eyes tightly, groaning loudly at the lethal combination of fear-induced adrenaline and pleasure.

Jackson fell on his back, gripping Lisa's hips in support as he looked up at her. Normally he would watch a woman's body as she moved, but this time, he was drawn more to the sheer ecstasy across her face. She had worked past her hesitations and had fully embraced the situation, using Jackson's leg for leverage to push down harder on him.

Lisa released Jackson's leg and leaned forward, gripping his hair for support. Jackson shuddered at the position change, sucking his bottom lip. He knew that he wasn't going to last long, but he wasn't ready for it to be over yet. But he stayed in place, digging his fingers into her flesh. It was taking everything in him not to rip that gun from her hand and flip her onto her back.

Lisa lowered her head, giving Jackson on opportunity to run his mouth along her jaw and ear. He slid his hands up her spine and over her shoulder blades, moving his hands down to her hips as she lifted herself upright again. She reached over and set the gun on the nightstand, gripping Jackson's hair and pulling him up to meet her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, using his shoulders as support to grind down onto him. The sharp gasps and moans coming from her lips were driving him crazy.

The wounds along Jackson's side and on his torso were throbbing, and he couldn't imagine that she felt much differently, but the enhanced pleasure gave him and overwhelming rush. He felt Lisa's muscles tighten around him, and knew that she was coming. He finally let go, gripping her hair and yanking her head back hard as he orgasmed deep inside her with a shuddering moan.

Jackson fell onto his back with an exhausted groan as Lisa dropped down on her hands, breathing heavily. He nudged her hips with his hands, helping her lift herself off him. Jackson reached over and grabbed the gun from the nightstand, putting on the safety. He turned back to Lisa, who was giggling softly. He grinned, sliding his thumb down her bottom lip. She was such a curiosity- a woman who could be painfully sexy, girlish and playful, defiant, and supportive with the flip of a switch. Did she even realize how intoxicating she was?

He curled his hand around her throat, lifting her chin to kiss her softly. He pulled away and rested on his arm, turning to face her. He stared down at the blanket, nervous again. The Caleb issue was still nagging at him, although in a different way than before. He had no worries about Lisa being drawn to his brother- he was sure now that _he_ was the one she wanted. "Are you moving to Minnesota?" he finally blurted.

Lisa's smile faded. She rolled to face him, mirroring his body language. "I don't know yet," she replied softly. "Caleb said we can get a divorce whenever. He just wants to avoid having to deal with the legal aspects of Cheryl disappearing. And_ I_ just want to be able to have a full identity." Jackson dropped his gaze, embarrassed all over again when he remembered Ben's accusations- he _had _been trying to force her into his life. He was also painfully aware that Lisa hadn't really answered the question.

Jackson turned over and got to his feet, quickly throwing his underwear and pants on. Lisa's evasion spoke volumes to him. Even after everything she had said, she had hesitations. He didn't want to push her, though. He had already tried to force her into staying with him, and wouldn't do it again. He turned away from Lisa and began to button up his shirt, but was stopped she hugged him from behind, putting her hands over his.

"_Talk_," she murmured, squeezing his hands. Jackson pulled from her grip and walked toward the door, running a hand through his hair. He closed his eyes, remembering the panic of an inexperienced woman holding a gun to his head. Any slip from her unsteady hands, and he could have had a bullet in his brain. Why was _talking _so terrifying?

"I want you with me," he finally explained, turning to face her again. "I don't want you moving in with Caleb." Lisa sighed in frustration, pulling on her bra and panties.

"I told you," she reminded him as she began buttoning her top, "Ask me again when this is _over_." She yanked her skirt over her legs. "But honestly, I don't think I want to be with you if you're part of the agency." Jackson sighed heavily, dropping into a nearby chair. What did she expect him to do? Just drop everything? His job was a significant part of who he was. Either that, or he was good at his job because of who he was.

He knew that Lisa had changed everything she knew, but this was different, wasn't it? He had spent the last decade completely immersed in an underworld- on paper, he didn't exist. And he was just supposed to be a normal person with a normal job? He had enough money that he didn't really _have _to work, but he would get so restless without something keeping him busy.

Lisa knelt on the floor in front of him, grabbing his attention. "You really need to talk to Caleb," she told him. "Maybe you'll get it." Jackson barely nodded, leaning his head back against the chair. Did she think Caleb would be able to talk him out of his life? Did she really think that they had _never _talked about it before?

"Are we done talking, then?" he asked, trying not to show his high tension. Lisa got to her feet and moved to the back of the chair, resting her hands on Jackson's shoulders. She slid her hand up the back of Jackson's neck, running her fingers through his hair. He leaned slightly into her touch, closing his eyes. He was still feeling better than he had been, but now that the sex rush was wearing off, he realized that very few of his problems were settled.

"Everything is fucked up, Leese," he admitted, stifling a yawn. He was beyond exhausted. He hadn't slept well on Jeff's couch, and now the growing issues were overwhelming him even further. He wanted to tell her about the hit on Ben, but knew that she wouldn't really understand what was happening. The only one he could talk to about _that _was Caleb. He had no idea how to sort things out with Caleb himself- their issues had been going on for too long and the bitterness ran too deep. He rested his elbow on the arm of the chair, dropping his forehead into his palm.

"What are the plans for tonight?" he asked, changing the subject as he tried to massage away his returning headache. His gaze traveled back to the table- he had never seen drilled holes in bullets before.

"We're going to kill Cheryl in my dad's house, and then set it on fire," Lisa replied simply, lightly grazing his scalp with her nails. Jackson raised an eyebrow, his head now still. She sounded so soulless, and he wasn't used to it.

"How do you feel about that?" he asked, and began buttoning his shirt again. He was prevented again by Lisa's hands over his.

"It has to be done," she replied flatly, pulling away. She sat down opposite him, crossing her legs. Jackson walked onto the balcony, motioning for her to follow.

"Doesn't answer the question," he pointed out, lighting a cigarette. Lisa groaned, gripping the railing with both hands and sitting back on her heels.

"I'm horrible," she replied with a deep exhale, dropping her chin onto her chest. Jackson rested his forearms on the railing, waiting for her to continue. He looked down, watching her shake her head. "It was my idea. I don't want anyone else living there- I have no other family in Miami." Jackson took a deep drag, his eyes narrowing. These were shallow answers- there was obviously more that she had on her mind.

"I'm...excited," she finally explained, pulling herself into a standing position again with another heavy sigh. Jackson raised his eyebrows, still watching her. As much as he got on her case for constantly asking questions, on the flip side, the woman could talk without having to be pressed. Jackson was grateful for this- he wasn't any better at asking about feelings than he was at talking about them.

Of course, the answer she gave surprised him. He never expected something like that to come out of Lisa's mouth, and he waited for an elaboration. "It's like...I'm starting this new life, and this is the last thing that's left of my old life. It's horrible." Jackson hesitantly reached over, placing his hand over Lisa's and squeezing gently.

"I'm not close to the rest of my family," she admitted. "I love them, but I don't think I'm as sad as I should be that I'll never see them again. My mom and I haven't really gotten along since I was a teenager, and my brothers have been out of my life for years. It's just been me and my dad, and that house is the last thing that's left of him." She finally turned to look at him. "I just want it to be gone. I don't want anything from my old life anymore."

Jackson hesitated before taking another drag of his cigarette. He had no idea how to respond. He was glad that Lisa was being strong and not obsessing over what she was leaving behind, but there was something about her attitude that was just depressing. He quickly pushed the hesitations away- it was that back and forth, wanting both worlds outlook led to what Caleb was becoming. Lisa was committing, and why should he stop her?

"It's not horrible," he replied, releasing her hand and resting his forearms on the railing. "It's shrewd." He pursed his lips, and relaxed them again. "But make sure it's what you want." Lisa bit her bottom lip, and Jackson sighed. "But you...don't have to keep it from me if you have doubts, alright?" He turned away, grimacing slightly at how awkward he sounded.

Lisa shook her head wildly, groaning. "I almost ruined it already," she admitted. "It was such a stupid mistake. Caleb had to help me."

Jackson nodded, staring out at the ocean again. "I saw," he replied shortly. Lisa grinned, squeezing her way under Jackson's arm to stand between him and the railing.

"It was so awkward," she told him, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning back over the railing playfully. Jackson tilted his head up to keep from exhaling smoke into her face. He wasn't dense- he heard what she _wasn't _saying.

"It's fine," he replied, and it was. He wasn't jealous anymore, at least not beyond the nagging irritation he would have felt seeing Lisa kissed by _anyone_. He pulled away from Lisa when she tried to unbutton his shirt again, grinning.

"We're here to work," he joked, spinning away when Lisa again tried to stop him from closing the shirt. He glanced around for an ashtray, but settled for sliding the cigarette across the balcony floor to put it out. Walking back into the room, he slid on his jacket and put his tie back on. Lisa dropped down on the bed, watching him straight his tie and smooth back his unruly hair.

"Are you going to talk to Caleb?" she asked quietly, pulling her knees to her chest. He nodded, checking once in the mirror to make sure that he was presentable. "He's still in med school." Jackson turned around quickly, standing upright again. He stared at Lisa in confusion. "Don't be mad at him," she continued rapidly. "He feels stuck- he thinks that he's totally turned his back on you. So he lied." She bit her lip. "Please don't be mad at him."

Jackson leaned against the table. He didn't understand _why _Caleb would lie about something like that. Didn't he realize that Jackson was more upset by the thought of him wasting his talents? His brother was extremely good at two things- killing and healing, and after the initial anger of Caleb leaving wore off, Jackson just wanted him to pursue it. _So fucked up..._

"I'm not," he assured Lisa, pulling on his socks and shoes. He walked toward her, leaning down for a quick kiss. "I'll talk to you later, alright?" He quickly exited the room, heading for the elevator. If he wanted tomorrow night to be successful, he had to get his confidence back. He had to sort things with Caleb, or at least get back on the right track, and he had to figure out what to do with Ben. And at some point, he had to decide which path was the right one- an uncertain future with Lisa, or the comfortable life he had been living?

* * *

**So...Lisa made her case quite well, n'a-t-elle pas? Maybe we'll get some resolution for the brothers in 28, but maybe Caleb will have none of it. He's not too pleased with Jackson.**

**Another short side story is already lined up for my ch. 27 reviewers- it will be very Caleb/Jackson-centric. :)**

**Also, chapters 1-13 have been tweaked, if you're interested in checking them out again.**


	29. I'm Not Like Everybody Else

**Sorry it took longer than usual to update. I'm not really happy with this chapter, but I've screwed with it as much as I can- hope it's not too terrible. I'm a little stuck on my side story, but don't worry- I'll be sending it to all my ch. 27 reviewers! For those of you who received the side stories- we're going to see a familiar face (sort of) in this chapter. :D**

**KnoKnayme- **Very much so. :P We need more sexy ladies up in here.

**pinky's creature feature-** It's totally okay. I was just worried that people weren't liking the story anymore. Let me know when you post the story- I totally want to check it out, but I rarely check the fanfic board.

**trudes193- **Danke, as usual. :)

**ThisIsChiKaOnFFdotNet- ! **Are you in the NYC/NJ area? Hope things are okay with you and your neighbors/family/friends if so. Always glad to hear from someone new! :D

**Jesscah- **At some point, Jackson and Caleb will have to hash it out. They're just really good at stalling. :P

**Pirate Gyrl- **Work does suck. And I'm honored that you feel honored! lol We'll have to see what Jackson ends up choosing, but he might not be the one making the choice anymore.

**MademoiselleGF- **Holy wow. I'll respond to your reviews via email as soon as I finish posting this. But don't worry- I have no plans to abandon this story. This chapter was liking pulling teeth for some reason, but I usually update a little faster than this.

**A chapter sans Lisa but avec more angst and shit:**

* * *

**Chapter 28: I'm Not Like Everybody Else**

"You look tense, Callie- want a back rub?" Caleb raised his head from the comforter, eyeing Ben with amusement.

"We're back to Callie?" he asked dryly, but couldn't suppress a faint smile. "Callie and Jacqueline, right?"

Ben grinned wickedly. "I'm sure he'd love hearing that one again." Caleb shook his head, dropping his face into his arms again. He was too anxious- he wanted to be working on their plan. He enjoyed spending time with his friend, but it wasn't enough of a distraction.

"_Move bitch- get out th-" _Ben reached over, silencing his phone.

"_Thank_ you," Caleb snapped, sighing deeply. Ben had finally broken up with his girlfriend. He pretended that it was because in light of his situation with Jackson and Marie, he was going to have to disappear in one way or another- not that he told her _that _story- but Caleb knew that he was just tired of her. She had been calling _ad nauseum _since then, but Ben had been hesitant to silence the phone, even though it was his personal cell.

"Maybe we should go downstairs and toast bachelorhood," Ben suggested lightly, trying to cheer up Caleb.

Caleb groaned. "I'm still married," he reminded Ben. He was still recovering from the shock of everything Cheryl had done. He was well aware that their marriage had been failing, but he never expected anything like this. He was irritated that he had never received a satisfactory explanation for why she did it, but did that really exist?

"Let's go get one anyway," Ben replied. "You look like you need it." Caleb shook his head again.

"Jackson's coming here when he's done talking to Lisa," he explained. He pulled himself into a sitting position, accepting a glass of whiskey from Ben.

"Are you going to tell him about Marie?" Ben asked, doing a poor job pretending to be merely curious. Caleb nodded, taking a drink. He winced- whiskey was not his drink of choice. "Do you think you could convince him to work against her?" He eyed Ben suspiciously, swirling the whiskey around in his glass.

"Well, what do you think would happen if Jackson refused?" Ben continued, sensing Caleb's skepticism. "You think after what happened with Keefe, she would just say 'oh, ok' if he refused an order?"

Caleb took another drink. "Probably," he replied casually. "She doesn't usually say 'do this or I'll kill you' to her employees. He fucked up, but you lied to her about some important stuff." He narrowed his eyes again. "I thought you didn't want me to talk to him about it, anyway."

Ben held up his hands in defense. "I just said he wouldn't believe it coming from me," he responded. Caleb rolled his eyes.

"If he wouldn't believe it from you, why would he believe it from me, from you?" he asked, exaggerating his curiosity. Ben gave him a look of disbelief.

"You know why," he snapped, and Caleb nodded in concession. He did know why, and it was the same reason that he had told Lisa to keep her mouth shut about it back in their room. When it came down to it, Jackson respected Caleb's judgment. He knew that his brother wouldn't believe everything he heard like Lisa might and that he wasn't blindly in support of Ben.

"Well, what if he decides to do it?" Ben asked. "Whose side are you on?" Caleb finished the drink and set the glass on the nightstand.

"What do you want me to say to him, exactly?" he asked, changing the subject. He was fairly sure that he was on Ben's side, but of course he didn't want to say it out loud or even have to make a decision like that. And what did that mean exactly? If Jackson came for Ben, would he have to go through Caleb first? He didn't even want to think about it.

Ben shrugged, taking Caleb's empty glass. He mimed a pouring motion, silently asking if Caleb wanted another. Caleb nodded. "I was thinking that if Jackson got his team together, we could easily remove Marie."

Caleb broke out into laughter heavy with disbelief. "You want me to convince _Jackson _to help kill _Marie_?" he summarized, shaking his head as he took the glass back from Ben. "That's fantastic."

Ben nodded, frowning. "That's exactly what I'm saying," he retorted, filling a glass of his own. "He might listen to you."

Caleb took a drink, his eyes still glittering in dark amusement. "You make me feel so cheap and used," he half-joked. He didn't give Ben enough credit sometimes- the man was clever. "Kind of a dangerous little plan though, isn't it?" he asked. "What if he refuses? What if she had had someone else do it?"

Ben snorted. "Yeah, like who? Jeff? You? _Lisa?_" He took a drink. "There's no one else around, and it's not like she's going to fly someone to Miami just to kill me. Plus, you know as well as I do that he's _not _going to kill me."

Caleb tilted his head from side to side, skepticism on his face. "Not necessarily," he argued. "I haven't really talked to him much in years, and I assume you haven't, either. We can't say what he'll do anymore."

The two men turned toward the door, hearing a knock. "Yeah, hold on!" Ben called, and turned to Caleb. "Do you think we should get Lisa more pills?" he asked suggestively, grinning.

Caleb snickered. "Nah," he replied. "It's still effective." He couldn't help but imagine Jackson of all people with a baby, and it amused him to no end. He took another drink. His anger toward his brother had mostly faded, as it always did eventually. He just couldn't hold a grudge against him. "I wouldn't tease him about it, though," he warned lightly.

Ben winked. "He doesn't scare me," he replied cockily, and walked over to the door, throwing it open.

"_Bonsoir_, Jacqueline," he welcomed, walking back to his chair. Jackson eyed him briefly before entering the room, shaking his head. "We were just talking about you," he continued, motioning to Caleb, who offered the rest of his drink to his brother.

Jackson took the glass, sitting on the bed next to Caleb. "And what did you conclude?" he asked, taking a drink.

"We don't like you," Ben replied, dropping into his chair. Caleb shook his head, looking at his brother.

"We need to talk to you," he explained, ignoring the 'We?' from Ben. He eyed his friend, deciding that Ben's penance for using him was that _he _had to explain Marie's phone call. "Ben got an interesting order from your director a few days ago," he continued, and looked over at Ben again, "didn't you?"

"I did," Ben replied hesitantly, obviously surprised. "But I think Caleb should explain it."

Jackson looked from one man to the other and rolled his eyes. "What's this about?" he asked impatiently. He definitely wasn't in the mood for games.

Caleb sighed. _Fine._ "Marie told Ben to kill Lisa," he explained bluntly, unsure of how to sugarcoat it. "She said Lisa's just in the way and she doesn't want her distracting you." Jackson remained silent, his jaw set.

"I told her no," Ben added quickly, "and that's why she's pissed at me."

Caleb eyed him. "Well that, and the fact that you told her that you have mafia ties," he reminded his friend, who shrugged.

"I was just trying to help," he retorted, defensive. "We never should have been working for those guys, and she _definitely _wouldn't have believed me if-"

"Stop," Jackson snapped, gripping his glass tightly. He ran his free hand through his hair, turning to Ben. "Could you get out?" he asked shortly. Ben opened his mouth to respond, but then shut it quickly, nodding.

"I'll just go check out the spa," he replied lightly, setting his glass on the table. Caleb watched Jackson stand up and start pacing after Ben left.

"Do you really think she'd do that?" Jackson finally asked, finishing his drink.

Caleb crossed his arms. "She _did_," he replied forcefully. He wasn't going to let Jackson warp the facts just because they came from Ben. "She thinks Lisa will make you leave the agency."

Jackson laughed dryly, heading for the mini-bar. "Oh, she's trying," he snapped, pouring himself another drink. He roughly ran a hand through his hair again, squaring his shoulders. It wasn't difficult for Caleb to see how conflicted he was about it.

"So what are you going to do?" he prodded. "What did you tell Marie?"

Jackson spun around, shooting Caleb a condescending look. "I told her to go fuck herself," he replied sarcastically. "What do you _think _I said?" He sighed. "At least if she thinks I will, it buys us time." Caleb nodded- that was the answer he had hoped for.

"Time for what?" he asked, trying to get Jackson to explain what he was planning. If he knew what was going on in his brother's head, it would make it easier to follow through with Ben's idea. When he got no response, he decided to insult Jackson again. "Are you actually going to do it?" he asked with forced incredulity.

Jackson rolled his eyes. "Of course not," he snapped, walking toward the balcony. "I don't handle her grudges." Caleb got to his feet and walked over to Jackson, standing next to him.

"Maybe it's time for someone else to be in charge," he offered calmly. Jackson clenched his jaw, but said nothing. "Ben's been telling me things about how she runs the teams, and it sounds like there's too much personal politics." He stared straight ahead. "And don't bother telling me that Ben's just biased- you _know _that she was against him, Robert, and that whole team. You never should have been allowed near Robert's plan, and you know it."

Jackson took a drink. "So what?" he asked coldly. "Just kill Marie? What the hell kind of plan is that?"

Caleb glanced over at him. "You'd rather let her keep running things this way?" he asked. "What happens to the next person who pisses her off? Are _you _on good terms with her right now?" Jackson shook his head. "Exactly. Who's to say that you're not next if you tell her no?" he continued, echoing Ben. He had brushed off his friend concerns earlier, but in reality, he had to agree.

"I will be," his brother responded darkly, heading out to the balcony. He lit two cigarettes and handed one to Caleb, who had followed him. "That's why I said I need to buy time."

Caleb nodded, taking a drag of the cigarette. "Then you have two options, don't you?" he asked. "You can try to run and hope you don't get caught..." _Which would be moronic_, he added silently. "Or you can do something about it." He leaned his forearms on the railing. "Call Jamie and tell her to bring your team to Oklahoma when they're done in Georgia."

Jackson took a deep drag. "The place is a fortress," he replied. "And they'd see us coming." He knew that his brother had never seen the ranch, so he wasn't surprised by the simplistic plan.

"But you know how to get in, don't you?" Caleb pressed. "Does she have actual guards or anything like that?" Jackson shook his head. Marie's security was in her surveillance and the remote location of her home. "Then why does it matter if she knows you're coming?"

Jackson groaned, leaning down to drop his forehead on the railing. "It's just so..." he trailed off, not finishing his sentence. Things just weren't done this way. Problems in the agency weren't handled with goddamn killing sprees and backstabbing. People didn't kill their way to the top- if you couldn't trust your colleagues with your life, there wasn't any point.

"What else can you do?" Caleb asked, but the question was rhetorical. The international branch of the agency was a disaster, and the blame rested mostly on the director- one team was dead except for one, who now had a contract out on him. There were assassination plots, favoritism in how contracts were handed out, and a director who would hold a grudge with a tight fist. Even Caleb seemed to understand that she had to go, and he wasn't even part of the agency anymore.

Jackson took a deep drag, wincing slightly. He knew what had to be done, but he was done talking about it. "How's school going?" he asked pointedly, changing the subject. He stood upright, glancing over at his brother, who was pale. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked sharply, still irritated about it.

"I just thought-"

"You just thought that you should lie to me?" Jackson snapped, interrupting. He knew he should keep his mouth shut, but it the words were falling out of his mouth. "I mean _Jesus_, Caleb- you walk out on us, and then you make me think that you're just pissing away your life."

"I didn't think you wanted me to," Caleb replied pathetically. Jackson almost felt guilty- _almost_. He could tell that even Caleb thought his reasons were bullshit- he couldn't even give a halfhearted attempt to defend himself.

"I didn't," he agreed. "But you left, and not finishing what you started would be a complete waste, wouldn't it?" He sighed sharply. "What the fuck were you thinking? You really thought it would be _better _if I thought that you put me through hell leaving just to do _nothing_? Just to-"

"I get it," Caleb snapped. "I fucked up- understood, alright?"

Jackson nodded, taking another drag. "It's dropped," he replied, and he meant it. Caleb knew that he was angry- there was no reason to drag it out. "Does Lisa know about Marie?" he asked, changing the subject again.

Caleb nodded. "Just about Marie asking Ben to kill her, not about you and him." He stretched again. "I figured that she wouldn't be able to keep her mouth shut if she knew everything, and I wanted to talk to you about it before she had a chance to go on and on about her idea of the right thing and piss you off." Jackson took another drink and glanced at his brother, who was grinning.

"She's not _that _bad," he replied, but couldn't suppress a faint smile.

"So she's really giving you an ultimatum?" Caleb asked. Jackson's smile faded and he sighed in frustration, nodding.

"Pretty much," he replied. "She says that she _thinks _she wants nothing to do with me if I stay with the agency, but it's the same thing." Caleb reached over and grabbed the glass, taking a drink.

"Maybe you should," he suggested.

Jackson scoffed, taking another drag. "Yeah, and do what?" he asked bitterly. "Show up on the job market at twenty-seven with no work experience whatsoever for the last...six years? And _none _in the business world? During a half-assed 'recovery' which will be another recession by next year?" He took back the glass. "And then what? Get married, have kids, get a pool and a dog?" He laughed dryly.

Caleb sighed. "What's wrong with those things?" he asked, and Jackson picked up on a hint of defensiveness in his tone.

"Nothing," he replied. "But it's not me. This works for me- I _enjoy_ it." _Mostly._

"I get it," Caleb countered. "But are you saying that you don't have doubts? Even with everything that's happening lately?"

"Sometimes," Jackson admitted. He couldn't deny that he had had moments when he wanted to quit, especially lately. But didn't _everyone _get disillusioned with their job at some point? He doubts were more extreme than most, but so was his job.

"But even if I wanted to, can you see me going legit?" He tried to imagine his life with a normal 9 to 5, working in an office with the insipid politics and the banal water cooler conversations, but he didn't fit. Especially not when he would have to start at the very bottom, kissing ass and doing mindless work.

But those reasons barely scratched the surface, and he knew it. His opposition to the idea ran much deeper than 'the job market sucks' or 'I'm used to this world.' Wall Street was part of the problem, as far as Jackson was concerned. He had no interest in being part of a system that was helping bankrupt the country by preying on the weak. If he actually were a consultant like his alias, he would have blown out his brains by now.

And those jobs were all so meaningless. Jackson didn't do his job for the killing- he had never particularly _enjoyed _taking a person's life. He had wanted to be a cop as a child, but he had seen how much red tape and loopholes the police force had to jump through to do their work. The law didn't interest the agency. He could never work for the sake of having money or just to have something to do after seeing the things that he had.

Caleb shook his head. "No," he conceded. "Maybe you should tell her sooner rather than later."

Jackson nodded, finishing off the glass. If he told her before they left to kill Cheryl, maybe she would go to Minnesota and he wouldn't have to worry about her anymore. But he didn't _want _her going to Minnesota. He wanted her with him. Why couldn't she understand that she was important to him, but he would never be satisfied in that world? He knew he was being childish, but it just wasn't fair.

"I'll go talk to her again," he said, yawning widely. "No reason for her to stick with us if I'm just going to dump her after, right?"

Caleb nodded slowly. "Makes sense," he replied. "Why don't you talk to her tomorrow though? Get some sleep and let us do our plan." Jackson narrowed his eyes, studying his brother as he took a slow drag. It was obvious to him that Caleb was involved in the Cheryl plan for himself rather than to help Lisa, and he really didn't like the idea of putting her in danger if he didn't plan on her sticking around after.

Caleb stared right back at him, defiant. His face softened, and he almost seemed to be silently pleading with Jackson. Jackson sighed heavily, sticking his cigarette in the empty glass. "Alright," he conceded as the cigarette sizzled. "But if anything happens to her..." He trailed off again, shaking his head. Verbal death threats were so amateur.

Caleb stuck his cigarette next to Jackson's. "Yeah, I get it," he replied. He straightened his tie. "You know, the world is always going to be fucked up." Jackson raised an eyebrow, not sure where he was going with this. Of _course _there would always be problems. "And it's not like without you, we'll never see world peace or whatever. Sometimes you need to live for yourself." He reached over, and squeezed Jackson's shoulder. "Get some sleep."

Jackson frowned, slightly offended. "That's not why I do this," he insisted, turning as Caleb headed for the door. He wasn't _that _egotistical. He had _never _looked at himself as some kind of savior- he didn't even think was that good a person.

Caleb raised a hand dismissively, not turning to face him. "I know," he replied. "Just something to keep in mind."

Jackson stared at the glass, feeling guilty yet again. He realized that this was the last time he was going to see his brother before Caleb went off to kill his own wife, and of course they had spent the entire time talking about Jackson and his problems. He started to call him back, but knew that Caleb was finished talking. "Good luck," he called out, unsure of what else to say. "Call me after...if you want."

"Yeah, maybe," Caleb responded, opening the door. "I'll be fine- don't worry." He exited the room without waiting for a response.

Jackson lit another cigarette, turning to look over the balcony again. Guilt nagged at him, but he dismissed it. If Caleb wanted to talk about it, he would have. His mind drifted to Lisa again. He did and didn't want to go to her hotel room and tell her that he wasn't going anywhere, because again, at the very least she would be safer if she left. But he had the odd feeling that Caleb was up to something.

He checked his watch. It was 3:30 in the morning in Tbilisi- Jamie might still be awake. If not, he could just leave her a voicemail. He pulled out his phone, dialing her number.

"What's up?" Jamie greeted him, her voice heavy with sleep. Jackson frowned- he didn't mean to wake her up.

"The plan's still on," he replied, "but I need you to bring the team to DFW right away after- we're going to kill Marie." He grinned faintly at her silence. He knew exactly what effect his bluntness had. "It's a long story- she told Ben to kill Lisa, Ben told her to fuck herself and quit, and she told me to kill him. I'm not going to do that, so..." he trailed off. He didn't have to spell it out for her.

"It's about damn time," she replied sharply. Jackson nodded. He knew that explaining Ben's involvement would strike a nerve with Jamie- the two had been in a relationship before Ben was transferred to Robert's unit. It hadn't ended well, and there were still feelings between the two. He knew that whatever the plan, she was one hundred percent on-board.

"Not that it _really _matters," Jamie continued, "but why does she want Lisa dead?" Jackson sighed in irritation. He had already told her that Lisa was with them, but he hadn't told her anything about their relationship.

"She thinks Lisa is going to convince me to leave the agency," he explained, hoping that she would put two and two together so he wouldn't have to explain everything.

"_Oh_," she replied, obviously figuring it out. "So you've finally fallen for someone?" Jackson rolled his eyes, walking toward Ben's minibar. He knew that he wasn't supposed to have the cigarette in the room, but that was Ben's problem. He poured himself another glass of whiskey and walked back to the balcony. He needed to be drunk.

"It seems so," he replied, sitting in a chair. If she were anyone else, he would have rebuked her, reminded her that it wasn't her business, but Jamie had worked with him for six years- they had lived together along with the rest of the team at one point and shared a bed countless nights- he felt comfortable talking to her.

"And Lisa wants you to quit?" Jamie asked, obvious skepticism in her voice.

Jackson took a drag. "Yes," he replied.

"And you won't, right?"

He shook his head. "Wasn't planning on it." He didn't have to go into his reasons- she already knew them.

"So she's going to leave? Or are you going to convince her to stick with you?" she asked, and Jackson heard her light a cigarette. He leaned back in his chair.

"She'll probably leave," he replied. "I don't really want to _convince_ her to do anything. I know, right?" he added, hearing Jamie giggle. "_Me _deciding not to manipulate someone?" He chuckled. "I can't do that shit with her. You know what I mean?"

Jamie's laughter faded. "Yeah, I get it," she replied. "But that really sucks. Sorry. Are you going to be okay?"

Jackson squeezed his eyes tightly shut. "Don't feel sorry for me," he insisted, taking a drink from his glass. "I knew what I was getting into, and I knew that the chances of her accepting what I do were..." He scoffed. "...non-existent. I let myself get into it anyway. So it's my fault, really."

"Oh, don't even start," Jamie reprimanded sharply. "You can't 'logic' your way out of love. So I will feel sorry for you if I damn well please." Jackson laughed dryly.

"You women and your 'the heart trumps the brain' bullshit," he teased. He grinned when Jamie laughed. He hated to admit it, but he missed this. He used to be good friends with Jamie, Ben, Rick, and Cheryl. The five of them and Caleb had been Marie's team at one point, and they had been very close.

He thought back to those early years and compared it to how different it was now. He and Ben had a deep animosity because of...a lot of reasons, he and Caleb rarely spoke, Cheryl was a backstabbing traitor, Rick was _dead_, and although Jamie was still on his team, it wasn't the same with her, either. He was her boss now instead of her equal. The bond they used to have just wasn't there anymore. When they weren't on a job, he didn't spend any time with her. They hardly ever discussed anything except business.

"How are the boys?" she asked, snapping him back into the present. Jackson pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation. The past was just that- the past. It was over. He and his friends had drifted apart, and getting nostalgic wasn't going to help anything.

"It's like they were never apart," he explained, thinking about how quickly the two men had bonded to each other again. He took another drag. "Caleb and I are probably going to have it out soon and Ben's made it clear that he's ready to kill me if he has to." He quickly gave her a summary of the recent events, explaining the three of them going behind his back and ending with Caleb and Lisa's 'marriage.'

Jamie sighed. "Stop fighting with Ben- you guys worked well before," she reminded him. "Let him do his job and he'll let your do yours. You know he's not going to undermine you when the time comes, so stop over-thinking everything. And Caleb _should _bawl you out- you have it coming, so just shut up and take it whenever it comes." Jackson nodded. He didn't appreciate feeling as though he were being lectured, but it was what he needed to hear.

"I don't know why you're pretending that you're conflicted," she scolded. "You know you're not going anywhere, so don't bother lying to yourself about even considering it. It doesn't mean that you don't love her enough or anything like that. You're not stupid- you know that you can't completely change yourself for someone and you know damn well that you _can't _gamble your entire happiness on one person."

Jackson finished his glass, closing his eyes. This was nothing new- she was just reaffirming what he already thought. "But if you just _tell _her that it's over instead of explaining that you love her, but you can't give up that much, and seeing what she says, you'll probably regret it." She paused. "Not forever or anything like that, but don't you think that you could at least try?"

Jackson shrugged for his own benefit. "Maybe," he replied. "Or maybe I should just take the hint and give up on the whole thing."

Jamie groaned. "I don't like you like this," she informed him. "Pick a direction and just take it."

"Yes, mother," Jackson replied dryly, rolling his eyes at the familiar advice. He finished his whiskey and put out his cigarette in the first glass, which still sat on the balcony floor. "Don't worry- I'll get my shit together. You just concentrate on your job."

"Yes, Sir," she shot back, and Jackson could practically see her sarcastic salute. She and Ben were _made_ for each other- it was almost disgusting.

He pulled himself to his feet with a heavy sigh. "Go back to sleep," he ordered, walking out of Ben's room. "See you in Dallas." He shut his phone, making his way to his room.

Jackson dropped down on his bed. Hopefully sleep would help him get his head straight again, and time would take care of the rest. He had to agree with Jamie- he didn't like himself like this either.

* * *

**So I _tried _to imagine Jackson leaning toward abandoning the agency, but the words weren't coming. Then I heard a live version of The Kinks' "I'm Not Like Everybody Else" (the lyrics are a little different), and a verse stood out to me:**

_**"Darling, you know that I love you true  
****And I'll do anything that you want me to  
****I'll even confess all my sins like you want me to  
****But there's one thing that I can't do for you  
****Because I'm not like everybody else."**_

**That fits Jackson perfectly to me. He loves Lisa, but he can't go against everything in his personality and past that led to him being part of the agency. So...it pretty much solidified his position for the time being.**

**Chapter 29 is almost half-written already, so it shouldn't be too long before I update again, and chances are fairly good that Cheryl won't live to see 30 (Get it? It's a play on words! :D).**

**Please R&R despite my lame sense of humor.**


	30. The Point of No Return

**As always, thanks to everyone who reviewed. The boost I got from trudes193, Pirate Gyrl and MademoiselleGF helped me to finish this one rather quickly. I can't tell you readers how relieved you make me. I worry sometimes that I'm dragging the story out too much and bringing in too much inner conflict, but you're all sticking with me- thanks so much!**

**PirateGyrl- **I always took it as Ben's way of teasing them for being so pretty. I do try to write them with a VERY blurred line between them- they both go back and forth into each other's personalities sometimes. And you're right- I developed Ben to give Caleb someone to play with, but he definitely doesn't completely confide in him.

Caleb and Jamie are giving him two sides that both make sense (isn't that always the way?), but I'm thinking this chapter might make the fangirl in you a bit happy.

**trudes193- **Thanks, and thanks for checking the chapter over for me. It makes me a lot more confident to post.

**MademoiselleGF- **If it came down to Jackson or Ben in that particular scenario, Caleb would have sided with Ben because he doesn't think Jackson is in the right. Even though there is the valid issue that Ben had been lying to Marie about his past, it's not lost on Caleb that she didn't order the hit until Ben refused to kill Lisa, which makes the hit wrong, in Caleb's mind. That's why he was so keen to make sure Jackson wasn't planning on going through with Marie's order- he didn't want to face the idea of being pitted against his brother.

**CharliRenee123- **Don't give anything away! :P

**KnoKnayme- **Thank you so much. See my general author's note above. :)

**Time for some conflict and healing!**

* * *

**Chapter 29: The Point of No Return**

"Can I try?" Lisa asked, watching Ben push the handle of the hand press and pull a complete bullet and casing from the die. Ben shook his head, quickly checking his phone when he heard a notification of an incoming text message.

"These have to be precise, grasshopper," he joked, setting the bullet into a nearby box. "And it's man's work."

Lisa rolled her eyes, dropping back in her chair. "Chauvinist," she remarked, drinking from her bottle of water.

"Oh lighten up," he replied, measuring out the next load of powder. "I just like doing it." He looked up from his work. "Stop taking everything so seriously. Even Jackson isn't _this _high strung."

Lisa made a face, but was interrupted from replying by Caleb walking into the room. He raised an eyebrow, looking at Ben. "So this is the spa." Lisa furrowed her eyebrows, confused by his words and Ben's grin. She must have missed some joke between them.

"Do you think I'm high strung?" she asked Caleb.

"Like a harp," he replied, glancing at the disheveled sheets and comforter on the bed. "Christ, Lisa- I have to _sleep _there."

A clatter caught the two's attention. Ben had set down his hand press and was gaping at Caleb in disbelief. "And how many times did you and Cheryl kick Jackson out of bed?" he asked incredulously, shaking his head in exaggerated disappointment. "Poor guy couldn't stay in his own room and poor Jamie had to take him in.

Lisa looked over at Caleb, who was blushing lightly. "Fair enough," he conceded as Lisa turned to look at Ben again.

"Who's Jaime?" she asked. She assumed that they were talking about Caleb's days in the agency, but she had never heard of this woman.

Ben grinned devilishly. "Jaime is a _goddess_," he replied, twisting his pointer and middle finger. "She and him are like _this_." Lisa scowled. She hadn't heard _anything _about this.

"She's his lead," Caleb explained quickly, overriding Ben. "His second- she runs his team when they go on a mission. And she was Cheryl's roommate, so Jackson slept in their room a lot." Lisa eyed Ben.

"Asshole," she said accusingly. He was obviously just trying to get a rise out of her. It seemed like entertainment to him. Ben nodded in agreement, focusing on his hand press again. Lisa turned to Caleb. "And don't blame Jackson," she teased. "He had a gun to his head."

Caleb grinned, shaking his head. He lowered his gaze to the gun on the nightstand, and looked back at Lisa, his face now full of surprise. "Seriously?" he asked incredulously. She nodded, a playful smile teasing the corner of her lips.

Another clatter from Ben caught her attention. "I had it all wrong," he said quietly, and lowered himself onto one knee in front of her, taking one of her hands in his. "Marry me," he proposed. Lisa gaped at him, dumbfounded. "No, really- I'll cook and everything. Just slap me around once in a while and I'll make you so happy."

Lisa pulled her hand away quickly. "Are you high?" she asked in amusement, still confused.

"He just really loves a woman with a gun," Caleb explained, pulling a bottle of water from the minibar. "It's an obsession." Ben nodded, sitting back in his chair after shooting Lisa a look of mock dejection. She shook her head, smiling faintly.

"So you guys all lived together when you were a team?" she asked curiously.

Caleb nodded, standing near Ben. "Six of us in a three bedroom apartment for two years," he replied, stress in his voice. "It was...real."

"Real _awesome_," Ben added, standing to allow Caleb to take his seat. He flung himself down on the bed. "But all great things must come to an end and all that." Lisa looked at Caleb, who picked up where Ben had left off with reloading the bullets.

"Was it really that great?" She prodded. "I mean, how much fun could it really be?" If anyone was going to confirm her ideas of how twisted the agency was, it was Caleb.

He shrugged. "It was six people in an apartment," he reminded her. "Sometimes it was great, sometimes we almost narrowed it down to five." He eyed Ben, implying that he was the one that was often in danger, which didn't really surprise Lisa. He was fun, but she couldn't imagine living in such a cramped with space with someone like him. And she definitely couldn't imagine him and _Jackson _under the same roof. "But we were a family."

She nodded, slightly furrowing her eyebrows. "But you still left," she continued, still fishing. She wanted to hear that they were just being nostalgic for 'the good old days' and that was actually pretty horrible. She hadn't been able to read Jackson before he left, and wanted _some_ reassurance that he was going to walk out on the job like Caleb had.

Caleb nodded. "I did," he replied, and as usual, he seemed to understand exactly what she was pressing for. "But I'm not him." Lisa bit her lip. That wasn't what she wanted to hear.

"Did he tell you?" she asked nervously. Caleb was holding something back. He nodded, but didn't elaborate.

"Tell him what?" Ben asked, rolling onto his stomach. Lisa ignored him, not taking her eyes off Caleb.

"She wants him to go legit," Caleb explained calmly, pressing another bullet. Lisa felt a blush forming on her cheeks when Ben laughed.

"What's so funny about that?" she demanded, turning to face him. Ben abruptly stopped laughing, his face serious.

"What _isn't_ funny about that?" he countered. "It's a goddamn riot." He shook his head, sitting up. "You've known him for a few weeks and you really think he'll just give up his entire life for _you_? You really think he would_want _to have a straight job and a neat little suburban life?"

Lisa glared at him. "What do you know about it?" she asked accusingly. "You don't even talk to him anymore."

Ben smiled condescendingly. "And I still know him better than you," he replied. Lisa opened her mouth to respond. "No, it's adorable that you come in here and think you can just deliver ultimatums and he'll follow you like some dog," he continued, cutting her off. "Not a chance, sweetheart."

Lisa angrily got to her feet, and Ben followed suit. "Oh, what?" he snapped. "Am I pissing you off? Am I bursting your happy little bubble?" Lisa glanced down at Caleb, but he was silently watching them both. "Seriously, Lisa- you're cool, and I do like you, but you have to admit that it's pretty fucking hilarious that you think that he'll just go legit, follow you into this little prepackaged life that would _normally _make him goddamn miserable, but he'll just love it because you're so great."

Lisa bit her lip. Ben didn't even know her, and he didn't know what had been going on between her and Jackson. Who was _he_ to say this to her? "He's changed. How do you know he would still be miserable?" she challenged.

"Because he said so," Caleb replied, cutting into their conversation. Lisa and Ben turned to look down at him. Lisa frowned. She _knew _there was something he was keeping from her.

"I don't get it," she said, crossing her arms in frustration. The fact that Jackson was choosing this _job _over her was hitting her like a ton of bricks. "How can he want this job _that _badly? It's so dangerous."

Ben scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Not everyone likes to live in a safe little bubble," he remarked as Caleb got to his feet.

"Shut up," he snapped at Ben, and Lisa stepped back. She had the feeling looking at the two men that Ben's last comment wasn't aimed only at her.

"I won't. I'm not the one who abandoned his teammates to go live in the _suburbs_," Ben snapped back, turning to face Caleb head-on. "I'm not the one pretending that I'm not a killer."

"I'm not pretending shit," Caleb spat. "I know who I am. And _you_ _know_ why-"

"No, I don't!" Ben interrupted. "I know what _Jackson _told us, but you never even bothered to tell the rest of us." Lisa shifted her weight, her discomfort increasing. She was realizing that although Ben probably meant the harsh words he had said to her, he wasn't talking only about her situation with Jackson. "It was just 'I can't do this anymore' and-"

"That's _why_," Caleb yelled, his composure completely lost. "I _couldn't_ do it anymore. I loved you guys, but I couldn't kill people and use people anymore. I'm a goddamn chickenshit, alright? That's the only reason. And _you_," he continued harshly, turning back to Lisa. "Jackson won't quit because he's _not_ a coward. He took the job for a reason and he doesn't belong in the real world. He _prefers _his world. And even if he _did_ quit for you, do you really think that he wouldn't change?"

Lisa blinked rapidly, unsure of what to say. She hadn't heard Caleb lose his temper like this- he had been the voice of reason for her. For some reason, instead of offending her, it was making his words resonate even more. "Do you really think that he could just do the typical job, have a normal life, and still be the same person? You claim to love him, but only on your terms."

"Only on _my _terms?" she snapped defensively, losing her own patience. He had definitely crossed the line. "I've done everything on _his_ terms since I got to your house."

Caleb shook his head. "If he had his way, you never would have gotten to my house in the first place," he reminded her. "And yes, he has been controlling, but everything we're doing is his _job. _And when it's his job he's in charge. But anyone can see how much you've gotten to him, making him question himself, which I really don't have a problem with- let's face it, he needs it- but _now..._pulling an ultimatum- you really can't see how _cruel_that is? You're manipulating him- taking advantage of the fact that he's in a fucked up place and trying to use it to get your way."

"I'm not manipulating him!" Lisa insisted, her hands balled into tight fists. "I'm trying to help him."

"He doesn't need your 'help'," Ben interjected rudely.

"Shut up!" she snapped, turning her head quickly to face him. "It's not _my_ fault that he's confused- that's always been there. I just brought it out. And now-"

"That's _not_ the problem," Ben spat, interrupting her. "The problem is that you look down on our job like you're so high and mighty because oh no, we kill people. Killing is wrong," he mocked. "And he's _listening _to you, which is _why _he's fucked up. Well, we do it so people like you can have your comfy little high horses that you use to judge people like us."

"Spare me the heroic speech," Lisa replied sharply. Caleb's jaw dropped.

"You know what your problem is?" he asked tensely. "You talk about things you just don't understand."

Lisa gaped at him. "What's not to understand?" she demanded, clenching her jaw. "You're murderers." She couldn't believe the words coming from her mouth. She had genuinely thought that she understood Jackson's profession. Was she lying to herself, or was she just trying to hurt them as much as they were hurting her?

"Would you say that to a serviceman?" Ben asked. "Would you say it to government agent?" She shook her head, failing to see what that had to do with anything. They lived outside the law- it was ludicrous to compare the agency to the military or the federal government. "Well, that's what we are, babe." Lisa started to tell him that he was full of it, but he continued right over her. "We are protected by the CIA- do you _really _think that we could work completely off the grid in this world? We do the shit the government _can't- _we handle the clandestine, unsanctioned missions that just can't be done by an agency accountable to international law."

Lisa gaped at him, stunned. Jackson had _never _mentioned anything like this.

"Like I said, things you just don't understand," Caleb said coldly, his posture relaxing slightly. "But at least we know how you _really _feel about it now- not that it was a big secret before." He dropped into his chair again. "It's probably better if you _do_ just drop out of his life," he remarked cruelly, "he'll get over it eventually."

Ben gave a short nod of agreement. "Call me when you're ready to leave," he said to Caleb, quickly exiting the room without looking at Lisa.

Lisa sat down on her chair again, her head spinning. She felt completely blindsided- she had thought that Caleb at least was on her side. Where had this come from? Were they right? Did she have it completely wrong? Was she really manipulating Jackson? She dropped her face in her hands, even more confused than she had been. The room was silent for a few moments before Caleb finally spoke.

"You can't make him quit," he explained, calm again. "It just won't work. Even if he did, which he doesn't want, he'll eventually hold it against you." He sighed. "And if you leave...he will get over it, but you really did a number on him. You realize that, right?" Lisa nodded sadly. She honestly thought that she was helping him, but it was evident that she may have done more harm than good.

"I didn't mean for it to happen like this," she told him in a meek voice. He nodded, and she saw genuine sympathy in his face.

"Of course you didn't," he replied. "But that doesn't change the facts." He squeezed the hand press again.

Lisa nodded, watching Caleb through her fingers. It was odd. He had said harsh words that should be unforgivable, but she wasn't _that_ upset with him. Or Ben, really. They were different from Jackson, more sympathetic and rational- especially Caleb. If _he _was lashing out at her like this, then maybe she _was_ in the wrong.

And they were right in a way- she didn't really understand what Jackson did or why it was so important to him. She would probably never understand why it was so important, but maybe that wasn't the point. Maybe she was supposed to support the fact that it _was_, even if she didn't understand why.

She closed her eyes tightly, breathing deeply. She could leave, assuming her and Caleb's deal was still on the table, and let Jackson go on his way. She could keep demanding that he chose between them, which was looking less and less like the right thing to do. Or, she could stay with Jackson, dangerous job and all, accept the fact that she would be worrying about him whenever he wasn't around, and get used to the idea that he killed people for a living.

Lisa took a deep breath. It was obvious that this wasn't a decision that could or should be made immediately. She had thought that she had made her choice, but she could look past the nasty words and see the message behind Ben and Caleb's accusations and attacks. They definitely had a point, and it was a slap of reality. She raised her head, watching Caleb over her fingers.

"I don't think you're a chickenshit," she said softly. He shook his head, sighing softly.

"Thanks," he replied. "But again...you don't really know, do you?" Lisa frowned, lifting her head from her hands.

"You've been there for all of us during this," she insisted. "You've helped keep me together, and you definitely gave me some things to think about." She leaned forward, kissing him on the cheek. "You keep telling me that people make mistakes and I shouldn't get too down on myself. Whatever it is you did, it can't be _that _bad." She smiled reassuringly, getting to her feet.

Caleb looked up, following her with his eyes as she headed for the balcony. "I know it's your decision," he called after her. "But please don't hurt him. He's actually a decent guy when he's not trying to be an asshole."

Lisa's smiled faded, a sharp stab running through her chest. She nodded, unable to form a verbal response, and walked onto the balcony. She sat down, positioning herself to dangle her legs between the bars. She leaned forward, pressing her forehead to the cold metal. She kicked her feet in the air, closing her eyes again. She felt so lost- what the hell was she supposed to do now?

Caleb got to his feet. _Time to be the good guy again. _Before coming into the room, he had sent Ben a text message letting him know that they were going to run a blitz on Lisa. A blitz was Jackson's creation, psychologically designed to either change a mark's mind or force a quick decision by having at least two agents bombarding them and each other with accusations and questions, getting the target worked up to the point that they didn't know which direction was up anymore and started questioning themselves.

It wasn't difficult to do in theory, but sometimes it left Caleb with a bad taste in his mouth. He had to say things that he normally would never say, such as supporting the agency and agreeing that Jackson _should _stay. He had approached it from Jackson's viewpoint since he himself didn't agree with it. The rest of it, however...the words were harsher than he would have preferred to use, but he did believe them. Ben's decision to throw Caleb leaving the agency back in his face had been a genius touch, even if it was a rather low blow. Ben was always better at these kinds of things anyway- it was the Brooklyn in him. Caleb was too midwestern to comfortably confront someone like that.

Caleb sighed heavily. They had run their blitz, and now he had two options: he could work to make Lisa keep questioning her ultimatum and reinforce that she should accept Jackson for how he was, or he could use the fact that Jackson wasn't going to quit the agency to convince her to walk away.

He honestly couldn't decide which direction would be better anymore. What would Jackson do if Lisa left? Would he go back to his old self and withdraw again, or would he continue to evolve? If he actually continued to change, what would that be like? How different would he become? And what would happen to Lisa if she decided to stay? Would she actually accept what Jackson did, or would she just convince herself that she did and eventually snap?

Caleb rubbed the back of his neck, walking toward the minibar. And what would Jackson _do _to him if he drove away Lisa? Thank him? Punch him? How much would it change their already-frayed relationship? He pulled out two Diet Cokes and walked out to the balcony. He placed one of the sodas next to Lisa and sat down in one of the chaise lounges.

It was so frustrating- he probably wanted Jackson to quit more than Lisa did, but he knew and understood his brother's reasons, even if he didn't agree with them. More than anything, he wanted Jackson to be happy, but there didn't seem to be a way for everyone to get what they wanted.

He popped open the soda, watching Lisa. His eyes trailed up her legs and over her the delicate curve of her spine, resting on the profile of her pixie-like face. There was no mystery as to why Jackson was in love with her. She was beautiful, clever and vivacious. Even with this frustrating development, she had been astoundingly accepting of the life that she had been exposed to. It could be argued that she didn't have much of a choice, but not many people would have been pragmatic enough to bite the bullet and actually go along with Jackson.

"I'm not manipulating him," Lisa argued softly as she turned to face him, and Caleb couldn't help but feel sympathetic. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stand his ground. He wanted to take it back, but it would defeat the purpose. He had chosen the word carefully _because _it was harsh.

"So it's never occurred to you how much power you have over him right now?" he asked, slight accusation in his tone. The guilty expression on Lisa's face gave her away, and he nodded. "Thought so."

"That's not fair," she protested, but she wasn't whining. "He _asked _me if I'd stay with him if he still worked with the agency, and my answer is no. And it's not because I have a problem with the killing- fine, it kind of is-" she conceded when Caleb arched one eyebrow. "-but with all the betrayal and everything...how could I be okay with it? I honestly think it'd be the best thing for him."

"For him or for you?" he asked, lighting a cigarette. "Trust me- I'd love it if he quit. But he won't, and no one can make him. And if what you want is for him to be legit, open, and all that shit...you fell in love with the wrong brother." Caleb's gaze shifted quickly to the ground. Where had that even come from?

"You think I should want you instead?" Lisa asked, walking over to sit on the end of his chaise lounge. Caleb pulled his knees closer, making room for her. She looked irritated, which made him nervous. "Is that what this is about?"

He shook his head vehemently. "Absolutely not," he insisted, but an indescribable doubt nagged at him. It was never his intention, but was there some jealousy underlying in his motivations? Was that why he tried to convince Jackson to walk away one moment and then insisted to Lisa that it would never happen the next? He continued to avoid her gaze as she took the cigarette from his hand. "It's just that you want to change him so much that it makes me wonder if you're in love with him or what could be."

He forced himself to look at Lisa again, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "I really didn't mean it like that," he repeated. Even if he did feel some superficial attraction to her, which he hadn't really thought about, he could never do that to Jackson. Ever.

Lisa took a drag, handing the cigarette back to Caleb. She leaned against his shin, wrapping an arm around his knee. "Sorry I jumped on you," she said softly, sighing. "I'm just really mixed up right now. I thought that I was doing the right thing." Caleb leaned forward, shrugging off his suit jacket.

"I get it," he replied. "You have to do what you think is right," he continued, loosening his tie and discarding it on the floor. "If you think you can be okay with what he does, then great." _I guess. _"But don't say you are if you aren't- it'll just make things worse." Lisa nodded.

"I'll figure it out," she explained, taking a drink from her soda. Caleb took a deep drag, annoyed with himself. He had ruined the blitz because of his own stupid indecision. He was too out of practice- he used to be better at this sort of thing. The fact that he actually cared about the target probably had something to do with it, too. He had been thinking too much about what was best for her, which defeated the purpose.

"I'm not as upset as I probably should be about killing Cheryl," he blurted, changing the subject and giving himself time to figure out the next step. He had been holding it in for too long, and Lisa was just strangely easy to talk to. He could see why even Cheryl had managed to bond with her. "I mean...I loved her at one point," he continued quickly when she stared at him in complete disbelief, "and we were good friends before that...but you know I've skipped out on vacations to avoid spending time at home." He shrugged. "We've just sort of..._existed _together for the last year or so. There's hasn't been much between us for a long time." He bit his lip, keeping himself from sharing their pathetic sex life.

Lisa frowned, sympathy in her eyes. "Are you just telling yourself that?" she asked, concerned. Caleb laughed softly, shaking his head sadly. Even when he had taken off work to help Jackson, he hadn't stuck around the house when he wasn't needed. He hadn't gone anywhere in particular- he just hadn't wanted to be there.

"We would have gotten a divorce eventually," he admitted. "I'm just sorry that it's come to this, but I don't really feel like I'm losing anyone _that _important." He cringed at just how heartless it all sounded. "Maybe those aren't the right words, but I guess I feel more sorry for her than myself." He sighed heavily. "Why didn't she just leave me? I wouldn't have fought it."

He took another drag. "No, Jackson thinks I'm avoiding it too. That's not it. And it's not that I want someone else or anything like that. I just don't love her anymore." He rested his forehead on his palm. "I don't even particularly _like_ her anymore."

"I believe you," Lisa replied, taking the cigarette from him again. "Maybe it's because you've been hurt a lot before. Do you think you could be at the point where if someone hurts you like that, you just close yourself off to them? Or maybe you _expect _people to hurt you." Caleb shook his head again, closing his eyes.

"I know what you're getting at," he explained. "I didn't take what happened with my parents the same way Jackson did." He paused, trying to come up with the right words. He hadn't talked much about that subject in years. "I didn't take it as personally- my dad was sick in the head, and Mom had her reasons for staying with him. Don't get me wrong," he continued when Lisa gave him a skeptical look, "I didn't take it _well, _but it didn't fuck me up as badly."

"Maybe it did," Lisa insisted, "but in a different way, like you said. Well, 'fucked up' isn't really the right way to put it, but maybe that's why you wanted to be a doctor and couldn't stay in the agency- you want to help the hurt people just like Jackson wants to punish the ones who hurt them." She stared at him, her eyes questioning.

Caleb nodded. "It's possible," he replied. "I haven't thought about it as much. I don't like to dwell on the past. I just try to learn from it and then move on."

Lisa frowned, taking a drag. "I wish I could be more like that," she admitted sadly. Caleb looked up at her, reaching forward to cover the hand on his knee with his own.

"You really need to stop getting so down on yourself," he told her. Why couldn't she see how strong she was? In less than a week, she had gotten to Jackson better than anyone else, and if anyone had zero tolerance for weakness, it was his brother.

Lisa nodded. "I know," she replied. "It's just this really bad habit- I blame myself when things go wrong." She bit her lip, resting her head on Caleb's hand. "I'm starting to think I should just go to Minnesota after tonight." She looked at him. "If you're still offering."

Caleb swallowed hard. This was _not _what he had intended. How was he ever going to explain this to Jackson? "I thought you said you weren't making any decisions tonight," he reminded her. What was he _doing_? He should be encouraging this choice- it would keep her safe, and if she didn't plan on staying with Jackson, the sooner she left, the better. But..._God_, the whole thing was maddening.

Lisa closed her eyes. "I know," she conceded. "I'm really confused right now. And I'm sick of talking and thinking about how confused I am. I _hate _it- I'm not usually this pathetic about things."

Caleb rolled his eyes- good Lord, he understood _that. _"None of us are," he replied, taking the cigarette back. He hesitated before taking a drag as it occurred to him that there might still be a way to change her mind. He had accused Lisa of taking advantage of Jackson's confusion to get what she wanted. It was obvious that she looked to him for guidance, and he could easily use that to his advantage.

"Just do me a favor and at least let him talk to you about it first. I haven't had him break his hand on my face for years, but I don't really miss it much, so I'd rather not tell him that _I _talked you into leaving." Lisa laughed despite herself, and Caleb had to keep himself from wincing. It was too easy.

He took another drag and chased it with the soda. "Just keep in mind that what's happening isn't normal at all. First of all, this whole betrayal thing is completely unprecedented. Secondly, it's very rare that Jackson personally handles jobs anymore. The managers get involved only in the 'important' jobs. His life isn't really at risk as much as it used to be, if that's that you're worried about."

Lisa lifted her head, shooting Caleb a surprised look that told him that he had hit his target. "Are you just saying that?" she asked, her eyes pleading. He shook his head confidently.

"I'm completely serious," he replied. "A situation like this has _never _happened, as far as I can recall." He took another drink. "And like I said, he does this job because he thinks it's right- how can you fault him for that?"

Lisa frowned. "But you said there's nothing good about the job," she reminded him.

Caleb shrugged. "To _me_," he replied. "But he sees it completely differently." Lisa dropped her head back onto his hand with an irritated groan.

"Why do you do this to me?" she asked, frustrated. "You keep giving me all these options and you make them all sound completely legit." Caleb smiled sadly.

"If there were a 'right' way, I would have told you already," he explained. "Personally, I want Jackson to quit." He intentionally didn't elaborate. "That doesn't mean that I'm going to make much effort to convince him...just because I want it, doesn't mean it's right for _him. _I'd rather be back at the hospital than here, but I couldn't live with myself if I abandoned him now. Does that mean what I'm doing is right?" He sighed. "Fuck no- I'm killing people again. I never wanted to go back to that."

"I think I'm finally getting what you're saying," Lisa replied, shifting to lie next to Caleb. He slid over, giving her more room. She was silent for a moment, deep in thought. "Maybe I _could_ stay with him," she pondered out loud. She leaned over and kissed Caleb's cheek. "I'm pretty sure I'd go crazy without you here," she told him, resting her head on his shoulder. "So thanks."

Caleb took a drag and frowned. "You're welcome," he replied half-heartedly, resting his head on hers. Even though it hadn't gone quite to plan, it was looking like he did accomplish his goal. He should have felt somewhat victorious, but instead, he felt dirty. He _was _being honest, but his goal was dishonest.

He had intentionally put Jackson over Lisa, which was to be expected, but it was to achieve an outcome he didn't particularly want. It was fairly obvious to him that Jackson wasn't going to leave the agency, but it now seemed possible that Caleb had set it up so regardless, Lisa would stay with him. And he had done so by taking the fact that at the moment, Lisa relied on him maybe as much as Jackson relied on her, and twisting it for his own means. He knew that she trusted him, and he had violated it.

"It's too late now anyway, isn't it?" Lisa asked, interrupting his brooding. Caleb took a drag and handed the cigarette back, waiting for her to continue. "I can't help him with Keefe and then say that I want him to quit...it doesn't work that way." She snuggled up against Caleb, who stared into the sky in disbelief. "I've already told him that I support him and I don't think he's a monster. I promised. I can't go back on it and now say that if he keeps doing his job, he's too evil or whatever for me." She turned her head, burying her face in Caleb's shoulder. "You were right about everything."

Caleb's throat tightened as he maneuvered his arm, cradling the back of Lisa's head in his hand. He felt her warm tears seeping through his shirt. He didn't know what promise she was talking about, but it was evident that she was backing down from her ultimatum.

"I'm horrible for screwing with him," she continued, her voice muffled. Caleb clenched his jaw. She was stronger than he thought. He had been thinking that her tears were because she was feeling trapped, but he realized that she was actually feeling guilty for even bringing it up. He ran his fingers through her hair, his own guilt easing. Maybe he hadn't done the wrong thing for her- maybe he hadn't condemned her.

Lisa pulled away from Caleb's shoulder, taking a drag from the cigarette. She shook her head at her own weakness. She had been trying to live in a fantasy world and trying to drag Jackson into it. Maybe- definitely- she didn't particularly like his job. But why did that matter? Like Caleb and Ben had said, who was she to try to force him into a life he didn't want?

What Caleb had said about falling in love with the wrong brother shook her. She studied the man next to her. He just wasn't the same. She felt comfortable around him, knew that she could talk to him, and even enjoyed being physically closer to him than she normally would with other men. But he wasn't Jackson.

She knew that she had had them pegged wrong. They both had their moments, obviously, but overall, Jackson was the more emotional brother, and Caleb was more prone to pragmatism. If Cheryl were Jackson's wife, would he react the way Caleb was? Hell, she wasn't his wife and he was still taking it more personally. If she left Jackson, would he look at it logically? From what Lisa could see, he had been trying- but failing- to use thought over desires.

She took another drag. She hated cigarettes, but she had to admit that she could feel herself thinking more clearly. She had been so, so stupid. She had put Jackson through needless stress at one of the worst times. Lisa took a final drag before passing the cigarette back. She knew that she had to focus on the plan, but after, she had to go to Jackson and tell him that she would stay by his side, regardless of his decision.

The problem wasn't the brother she had fallen in love with- it was her own hang ups. She had to remind herself yet again that she wasn't in the real world anymore. They didn't play by the same rules, and she couldn't hold Jackson to the old world fantasy she had anymore.

* * *

**Jackson should be pleased with this latest decision, yes? Hopefully it's the end of Lisa's indecision. Again, it was brought on by the song used for the chapter's title. I've used it as inspiration for a lot of the relationship.**

"**Past the point of no return  
No backward glances  
Our games of make-believe are at an end.  
Past all thought of "if" or "when"  
No use resisting  
Abandon thought and let the dream descend."**

**And my favorite: "The bridge is crossed/So stand and watch it burn."**

**The scene went longer than I expected, so I guess Cheryl will live another chapter. But I swear to baby Jesus, she dies in 30. Guaranteed.**

**R&R as always. Working on another side story for this chapter's reviewers!**


	31. Breakdown

**As usual, thanks to all my reviewers. I know I've said it again and again, but I wouldn't trade you guys for anything! You make all the constant obsessing about the next step totally worthwhile. A bunch of you point out little lines and scenes that stand out to you, and they're usually not the same part. You inspire me in your own ways, and ****_you _****are the reasons the story goes the way it does. :D And a special thanks and welcome to my new beta, AmelyShine! Thanks for the ****_hours_**** spent on GoogleDocs going back and forth between writing, editing, and obsessing over Cillian! I intentionally didn't send previews this time around since this chapter doesn't split into sections well- I have a side story in the works that I'll send your way. And I'm sorry if this round of review responses goes on and on...I had ****_amazing _****reviews for chapter 29. Love all of you!**

**MademoiselleGF: **Aw, I still want to hear what you thought about the side story! :D Honestly, I wrote a lot of the blitz with you in mind- I know how you feel about Lisa's indecision. You're a new reviewer, but you're already one of my favorites! And thank you for what you said about my OCs- it's always nerve-wracking to write them because you assume the readers just won't give a shit about them, but I really enjoy fleshing them out. And Ben is quickly becoming one of my favorite to write- he's like a little breath of fresh air in all the tension, but still isn't unbelievably ditzy about it.

You're totally right about the savior complex and the fact that really, Lisa _should _have fallen in love with Jackson. She's the "good girl", and good girls want a "bad boy" that they can rehabilitate. But I hope you also notice that Lisa's becoming less and less of the "good girl" the more time she spends with these guys. So her attraction to Jackson is becoming less of a "I want to fix him" and more of a "I want him" kind of thing.

I love interacting with my reviewers! You guys are the reason I write the story...if I worried about just myself, I'd keep it in my head. :)

**trudes193: **Yep, Ben has his serious moments to emphasize exactly how much certain characters are on the wrong track. He had his serious moment with Jackson (the "trapping" conversation) and he's had two with Lisa (the blitz and the "you're pretty much useless to me" conversation when he's about to take her to the airport).

**Guest(1): **Sorry...no sexytimes planned for a while.

**CharliRenee123: **What would Lisa do without her voice of reason? Gah, you guys are tearing me apaaaaart! Some of you want the triangle, and some don't. :P No worries- I can honestly say that Caleb and Lisa's relationship probably won't progress beyond their minds, but there are definitely some tones of attraction between them. It will come out in more detail in this chapter (but I obviously won't just come out and say it, because Lisa doesn't _realize _it), but Lisa definitely has a bit of hero worship for Caleb more so than a real attraction to him.

**Pirate Gyrl: **Ah, another Phantom fan! (phan...blech) I really liked that song- I liked the music better than the lyrics, but very pretty. :D I actually liked the 2004 version- the tPonR scene is a visual of JxL relationship to me. The flames, the way they hold their bodies...it's all gorgeous to me. And oh yes- I definitely rooted for the Phantom too. :D

There was some honesty to everything they said- they just were more blunt than they might have been normally. So for both Ben and Caleb, they _were _saying what they felt. And Caleb knows on some level that Ben meant what he said (or he wouldn't have picked up on it so quickly), but he won't really acknowledge it. We'll see eventually how Jackson takes it, but for now...there are more pressing things to deal with (you'll see...it's not pretty).

**AmelyShine:**_ Love you_, darling! You're right- as much as the team might bicker and spend years apart at times, they are _very _close when it comes down to it. Jackson and Ben can say that they hate each other, but they would miss the other if he died. :P And like Jamie reminded Jackson, they will have each other's backs. And they all kind of have that twin connection- Ben and Caleb definitely seem to read each other's minds at time.

I can't say enough how relieved I am that you guys actually _like _hearing about my OCs. I hate when writers bring them in just to serve a purpose but never expand them, but at the same time, I really worry that the readers won't really care. Especially now that I'm really getting deeper into them.

The boys gave tough love- she needed some to get her head on straight.

**Guest(2): **Okay, I was totally ready to post this chapter before your review, but I have to say that your choice of the word "mutually" totally caught me off-guard. Did you read my mind for this chapter? lol Thanks so much for your review, and I really hope that you continue to read and enjoy the story! :D

**WARNING: This chapter is somewhat graphic and gets really dark. But I promise I'm not just being evil for the sake of it- there are reasons why everything happens the way it does! This is definitely the heaviest chapter I've written so far. At some parts, the POVs switch ****_very _****quickly, so sorry if it gets confusing.**

* * *

**Chapter 30: Breakdown**

Lisa bobbed on her toes, a mix of impatience and anxiety flowing through her veins. She tightened her grip on Caleb's arm as she scanned the street. Where was Ben?

As part of their cover, Lisa and Caleb had left the hotel at eight, having a late dinner and then taking in a show at the theater. She couldn't remember what she had eaten, what they had discussed, or the plot of the play. She just knew that they had been mere hours away from "the moment".

Now they waited for Ben to come pick them up and take them to her dad's house. She knew that talking to Caleb would make the time go by faster, but she had no words. He didn't seem to be doing much better, she observed, studying his face. Caleb's jaw was set, his eyes focusing on something that she didn't see. She wondered if this was unusual, or if this was part of some pre-killing ritual.

Finally, Ben's convertible pulled to the side of the road, and Lisa slid in the backseat next to Cheryl. The other woman had her head propped against the window and didn't even seem to notice her new seatmate. Her eyes were focused on her husband, who quickly sat in the front passenger seat as Ben pulled down the street again.

For his part, Caleb didn't turn around. He didn't even acknowledge Cheryl's presence as he lit a cigarette, rolling the window down a crack. Lisa watched the two men in the front seat with fascination. She would finally get to see what happened right before a job, and she anticipated learning more about Jackson's world.

Unfortunately, neither Ben nor Caleb spoke, and Lisa frowned slightly. She had imagined more discussion, had expected them to talk about the plan and make sure that everything was happening as expected. A movement out of the corner caught her eye and she watched Cheryl lean forward, whispering something in Caleb's ear. Lisa's frowned deepened as Caleb clenched his jaw.

**"**You too," he replied, his voice like gravel. Lisa waited for any indication of what had been said, and curiously observed Ben shaking his head. Had he heard? She bit her lip as Cheryl wrapped her arms around the seat, hugging Caleb's chest as she continued murmuring in his ear.

Caleb's rolled his cigarette back and forth between his fingers as his hand receded from the window, and Lisa briefly wondered if he was about to burn Cheryl with it. Instead, Caleb simply squeezed Cheryl's arm with his free hand and began to pry her away from him. Without hesitation, Lisa leaned forward, helping pull Cheryl back from Caleb. It wasn't too difficult- the woman was obviously exhausted.

Cheryl turned to face Lisa as though noticing her for the first time, one perfect eyebrow raised. "The Little Princess playing with the big boys," she taunted, and Lisa narrowed her eyes. She didn't even recognize the woman from Jeff's house- this one had no heart and felt no pain.

**"**Why don't you just leave him alone?" she snapped, but sat back in her seat when Caleb raised his free hand dismissively. He was apparently beyond caring what Cheryl said to him- maybe he had been telling the truth.

Cheryl just laughed, turning her attention on Ben. "No music?" she asked, feigning curiosity.

Ben shook his head. "Don't need to get pumped up to kill someone like you," he replied, his voice surprisingly even. Caleb turned to look at him.

**"**Oh, play some," he ordered. "She's not special." Ben glanced over at him, and finally hit the play button on his iPod, sighing heavily. Lisa flinched as loud rap music blared through the car's stereo, rattling the windows. She had no idea who was the artist- she wasn't familiar with rap music. Watching Caleb imperceptibly bob his head in time with the beat, almost as a reflex, Lisa wondered if _this _was a ritual for them.

Before long, Cheryl leaned over toward Lisa, propping her weight on one elbow as she spoke into her ear. "Don't let him fall in love with any nice girls," she implored, surprising the hell out of Lisa. She turned her head, gaping at the other woman in disbelief. The woman from the previous night was back, her face clouded in a myriad of emotions. Lisa didn't even know how to respond to _that_, so she stared dumbly in the direction of the front seat. Neither man seemed to notice their conversation.

**"**He's not a nice guy," Cheryl continued, and Lisa couldn't hear any condescension in her voice. "He can be as cold and calculating as Jackson wishes he could be." She leaned back, and Lisa could barely hear her over the sound of the vibrating bass. "I forgot that, I guess."

Lisa frowned. Yes, Caleb was often abnormally rational and pragmatic, but how could Cheryl say that he wasn't nice? The other woman had known the man for six years, and they had been married for four, which would normally lead Lisa to assume that Cheryl knew Caleb better than she ever would, but she had seen nothing to indicate that he was a bad guy. In fact, she didn't know why both he and Cheryl insisted that he was so ruthless- she had seen a hell of a lot more sympathy from him than she had from Jackson. Or was this Cheryl's way of telling her that Caleb planned his emotional responses? She found _that _incredibly hard to believe...it was beyond ridiculous.

**"**That's what I fell in love with, you know." Lisa found herself leaning toward Cheryl to hear her better. This entire conversation- if she could even call it that- was so bizarre that she didn't want to miss any of it. "I know that he'll be okay." Cheryl smiled faintly, and Lisa didn't feel as though she was even being talked to anymore. It felt more like Cheryl was talking to herself, and Lisa was just a witness. It was what she imagined the final confession of a death row inmate to be like.

**"**They're hard to resist, aren't they?" Cheryl smiled knowingly. "They're exciting...dangerous..." She winked. "And amazing in bed." Lisa blushed lightly, an involuntary smile tugging her lips. _That's putting it mildly. _She stared at the other woman, still not able to form any kind of reply- not that Cheryl seemed to want one. She couldn't help but wonder...if Cheryl _hadn't _betrayed the Rippners and the agency, could they have possibly been friends? If Caleb and Jackson were so similar in certain ways, did that mean that she actually had a lot in common with this fallen woman?

The thought made Lisa turn cold, and she shivered. She had killed and helped kill multiple men, and hadn't felt regret so far. It was hard to think objectively about Cheryl since she hadn't known her much before she and Jackson had taken off for Oklahoma, but Caleb had been in love with her at one point, and it sounded like she and Jackson had been friends. Something had obviously gone wrong at some point to turn Cheryl into the enemy.

Lisa thought back to Jeff's room, when Jackson relayed his conversation with Cheryl. She had said that Caleb was _nothing _after he left the agency, and that she couldn't respect him anymore because he had lost his convictions. It had seemed sick at the time, but Lisa bit her lip, wondering if she could possibly feel the same way if Jackson ever did quit his job.

**"**Stop screwing with me," she finally said to the other woman through clenched teeth. She also recalled Jackson telling her that 'we', meaning people like him, always had ulterior motives. They knew exactly what they were doing, exactly what they were saying. Cheryl was obviously trying to get under her skin, to make her question herself. Jackson had told Lisa that Cheryl told him about her pregnancy just to upset him, so why wouldn't she hesitate to make Lisa feel awful if given the chance?

Cheryl recoiled, and if Lisa didn't know any better, she would say that the other woman was hurt. "Think what you want," she replied coldly, and Lisa hated herself for feeling regret. Were these more mind games, or had Cheryl actually been opening up to her in her final moments? She crossed her arms, sighing as her eyes closed. She hated these moments- she felt like she had ridden for too long on one of those spinning playground rides...she couldn't remember what they were called...the kind where you would hold onto the bars and run in a circle before jumping on the spinning metal and riding until you felt ready to vomit. Sometimes she and her friends could get it spinning so quickly that she would lose her grip and fly to the gravel.

_I need a cigarette_. Lisa frowned slightly, wondering where that strong urge had come from. She had shared two cigarettes with Caleb, but since when was she addicted? If she _was _addicted, why did she never smoke with Jackson? She tilted her head to the side, these new questions intriguing her. She was pulled from her odd pondering by a cold hand on hers, and looked down to see Cheryl's hand begin to slide the wedding ring from her finger.

Against her better judgment, Lisa allowed Cheryl to take the piece of jewelry. The woman said nothing, but the odd expression of sorrow and confusion on her face was so strong that Lisa felt obligated to look away. She instinctively felt as though she should give Cheryl privacy, and shrank back when she noticed Caleb's eyes staring into hers, questions swimming in those blue eyes that were darkened by the night.

She immediately broke his gaze and stared out her window instead. She had no answers to give him.

Before too long, she recognized the streets, realizing that they were in her old neighborhood. "I checked it out," she heard Ben explained to Caleb as they approached Blossom Palms Lane. "It's a straight shot from the back of the house through the yard behind it to Hyacinth Avenue- no fences." Lisa almost reminded Ben that he could have just asked her, but figured that there wasn't any point. As Ben pulled the car in front of the house, Caleb reached into the glove compartment, pulling out a pair of black leather gloves and a small white cardboard box. He pulled a gun from the box and tossed the cardboard aside. Grabbing a second gun from the glove compartment, he tucked both into his and Lisa exited the car, Caleb pulling out Cheryl out of her seat. Lisa walked around to the back of the car as Ben popped the trunk, and she removed two

cans of gasoline. Her stomach lurched as she finally forced herself to look at the house that she had grown up in. Her knees almost buckled, but she quickly regained her composure, leading Caleb and a surprisingly-docile Cheryl to the back door.

No one spoke as Caleb reached in Lisa's blazer pocket, retrieving the house keys that she had taken before fleeing from her dad's still-warm corpse. Caleb entered first, holding the door open for Lisa. She walked past them and into the living room, dropping the cans on the floor when she saw the long-dried bloodstains on the rug.

Lisa knew that she should start right away. Caleb had told her to pour the gasoline on anything with sentimental value, so she picked up one of her gas cans as she walked upstairs slowly, careful not to trip on the steps. She stopped in her own bedroom first, splashing gasoline across her bed, her stuffed animals, and her carpet. She was numb. Anytime a memory tried to push its way into her mind, she blocked it out.

She trailed gasoline through the bathroom and made her way into her dad's bedroom, opening the curtains to let in the faint moonlight. She set down the can and stood in the room, giving up on trying to remain collected. She wished that she could remember the times she had slept in this bed, terrified of monsters in her closet. She wished that she could see her dad again, hear his voice...

Lisa crossed her arms over her chest as stronger memories permeated her brain. She picked up the gas can, sprinkling the pungent liquid as she traced the path that she and Jackson had traveled in this room. She splashed the carpet where they had swung at each other with their respective weapons, the bed where she knocked him down, beating him with her field hockey stick, and even on the bedroom door where they had grappled like wild animals. She exited the room, eyeing the half-wall that he had thrown her over right before she shot him, and shuddered as she recalled the excruciating pain that had racked her body.

Lisa knew that if the explosion worked, the rooms would be destroyed, but she wanted to make double sure that no trace existed. She wanted the source of those memories just as erased as the people they all felt like it had happened to another person. Was there really a time when her greatest fear was simply the dark? Was it really her and Jackson struggling for their lives? They had both changed so much, even in the last few days. She let the gas can tip sideways as she walked down the stairs again, leaving a trail of gasoline behind her.

Lisa tossed the empty container aside and headed back for the living room, grabbing the second can. She poured the liquid generously on where her dad had taken his last breath, shaking the can furiously to douse the entire room. She stalked into the hallway and covered the fainter traces of Jackson's blood on the hardwood floor, recalling how the cleaners had scrubbed for hours but were never able to completely get it out. Joe had been planning to order new flooring, but it was a moot point now, wasn't it?

Lisa grabbed the cordless phone from its holder, and briefly wondered if she should grab a photo. No- she _had _to leave this life entirely behind her. It was the only way. She gritted her teeth, angrily splashing the gasoline every which way as she headed back to the kitchen. Caleb and Cheryl were staring at each other silently, unnerving Lisa. They both looked so cold, so empty.

She set the can down on the kitchen floor, finally gaining Caleb's attention. "Ready?" she asked. He nodded, roughly pushing Cheryl to the ground and kneeling over her. Cheryl leaned up, pulling Caleb down by his tie and pressing her lips to his. Lisa gritted her teeth, glad that she didn't have the gun in _her _hand. _What a manipulator_... Caleb allowed the kiss to linger for a few seconds, much too long for Lisa's taste, before placing one hand on Cheryl's chest, firmly pushing her back to the ground. He bent down, whispering in Cheryl's ear. Cheryl placed her hand in her husband's, giving him her ring and placing one last kiss on his cheek. Caleb shoved the ring in his pocket and pulled away, nodding at Lisa again.

Lisa quickly dialed 911, forcing herself to look away from the tears forming in Cheryl's eyes. She watched Caleb pull one gun from his belt, the same gun that she had used to kill the two government agents. Marie had overnighted it to Miami so they could use it in the shooting.

**"**This is Lisa Reisert," she said, not having to feign the bitterness and desperation in her voice as she heard the 911 operator answer her call. "It's over- leave my family alone." She hung up the phone and dropped it on the floor. The police would trace the signal and know that she was at her dad's house seconds before the explosion- it gave them more reason to assume that the body was hers.

They were firmly locked into place now- there was no time to waste. Lisa held her breath, watching Caleb press the gun to his wife's head, waiting for him to pull the trigger. Nothing happened. Caleb was frozen in place, his eyes wide in panic. Lisa chewed on her bottom lip- obviously, Cheryl meant more to him than he realized.

**"**Caleb?" she prompted, but got no response. What was she supposed to do now? The police would be on their way shortly, and knowing that Lisa was likely still in the area, they wouldn't be wasting any time.

For her part, Cheryl was staring back at Caleb in disappointment, which confused Lisa. Wouldn't this make her _happy_? Didn't she want to live, to sabotage their plans and ruin them both? She bounced on the balls of her feet in anticipation. There wasn't _time. _It was apparent that Caleb couldn't handle it, so that left everything to her.

She knelt down, quickly grabbing the gun from Caleb's hand. He didn't even seem to notice, his gaze fixed on Cheryl. He was breathing quickly, almost hyperventilating, and his eyes were wide open in what now appeared to be horror. As Cheryl turned her attention to Lisa, the brunette shoved the gun against her temple and pulled the trigger without giving herself time to second-guess her decision.

Almost simultaneous to the gunshot, she heard Caleb cry out and felt an explosion of pain on her cheek as he backhanded her, sending her sprawling onto the kitchen floor. He quickly pulled himself to his feet and Lisa sat up again, bending Cheryl's arm toward her head and placing the gun loosely in her hand. She heaved, using all of her concentration not to throw up as her gaze rested on the blood, brain, and bone fragments splayed across the kitchen floor.

**"**Move!" Caleb hissed, grabbing Lisa by the arm and yanked her to her feet, sending shooting pain through her shoulder. Lisa grabbed the kitchen counter to regain her balance as Caleb doused the kitchen in gasoline, leaving the can by Cheryl's body. He looked mechanical, and Lisa hardly recognized him. He leaned forward and grabbed her arm again, roughly pulling her from the kitchen.

He left the door wide open and once they were on the lawn, he turned, pulling the second gun from his pocket. Quicker than Lisa could imagine, he aimed the gun and fired into the kitchen. The bullet had been altered, a small piece of flint shoved through a drilled hole in the tip and as such, a shower of sparks rained down on the gasoline as the bullet grazed the steel stove-top instantly igniting the liquid.

Lisa couldn't look away as she watched the room go up in flames and the upstairs windows begin to glow as the fire instantly ate through the gasoline. It felt like an eternity, but was probably less than a second, before Caleb pulled her away yet again. He practically dragged her across the lawn, running toward Hyacinth Avenue. Lisa didn't even attempt to pull from his grip. There was a stiffness to his body language that sent dread racing through her veins. It had been too much for him- Ben should have taken care of this. Jackson couldn't have, because he wasn't accurate enough to make the shot that Caleb had.

**"**Caleb," she began again as they approached Ben's car. He didn't respond, opening the back seat and shoving her inside before taking his place next to Ben. The other man said nothing, quickly taking off. They wanted to be well away from the area before the explosion woke the neighborhood, and the cops could be arriving at any moment.

Lisa whimpered involuntarily when she heard the loud explosion behind them, letting herself fall across the back seat. She put her fingertips to her throbbing face, willing herself not to cry as Ben raced toward the freeway. She wouldn't be the weak link.

She wasn't angry at Caleb for hitting her. He was obviously not ready for what had happened, but she didn't regret doing it. He didn't look like he would, and they had to get out of there. As much as she hated the default excuse, it had to be done. She pressed her face against the leather seat, clutching her stomach, and riding out the waves of nausea.

They had done the right thing. The agency's traitor was dead and Lisa's family was safe. Her name would never be cleared and her family would think that she was dead, but...they were safe. That was the important thing. She couldn't block out the thoughts of her childhood memories burning to the ground, and wished Jackson was there- she longed to curl up against him and be held, even if it was weak of her. She closed her eyes, imagining him sitting next to her so she could rest her head on his thigh and he could run his fingers through her hair.

In her mind, she saw her dad's face. She was grateful at least that he had received a quick death, that he hadn't suffered. She sighed deeply, silently reassuring him that she was okay, that she could be happy with her decisions. She knew that he was looking down on her from Heaven, and that he could hear her. It was odd, but she felt that just _maybe _he would have approved of what she was doing and the new men in her life- Jackson, Caleb, and even Ben.

_They're good guys_, she told him. _I'm happy with them...mostly. They're killers, but...it's not that bad, really. And they'll help me make it out of this alive- I promise. I'm fine...and yes, I'm sure._

Lisa had no idea if Caleb and Ben spoke during the drive- she was too wrapped in her comforting world. She was pulled back to reality as the car stopped and she quickly sat up, readjusting her clothes and hair. Caleb opened her door and offered his arm, his expression almost back to normal. Lisa could see that it was an act, but she accepted his arm, wishing Ben a good night. He was staying at his apartment for the night to avoid anyone seeing them coming back together. He gave a quick wave of his hand and pulled away, leaving 'the Rippners' on the sidewalk a few blocks from The Pointe.

Lisa glanced up at Caleb as they walked, but he said nothing. He didn't acknowledge her at all, seeming to be lost in thought. She leaned her head against his shoulder, trying to offer him silent comfort. She frowned as she felt him tense- was he going to be able to get over this? His behavior reaffirmed that Lisa had made the right choice. If he had pulled the trigger, he might never have forgiven himself. She felt a small sadness ripple through her, and wished that she could be back in her fantasy.

Within minutes, they arrived at the hotel and headed toward the elevator, Lisa exchanging "good nights" with the receptionist. As she and Caleb got in the elevator, he pulled away slightly, his hand squeezing her forearm. She frowned, knowing that Caleb losing his composure as they made their way down the hallway. His grip tightened as he pulled her into the dark room, shutting the door behind them.

**"**Cal-" she began, but he cut her off, grabbing her upper arms and shoving her hard against the door. Lisa winced as her head bounced against the cold metal, her heart racing with fear. She hadn't those ice blue eyes full of rage since Jackson had attacked her in her father's house.

**"**What the fuck were you _thinking_?" Caleb hissed, leaning his head down so that their faces were inches apart. Lisa stammered, trying to find the right words. She was only trying to _help_. She placed her hands on Caleb's wrists, trying to pry him off, but he was too strong. Even in the dark room, she could see the intense anger burning in his eyes.

**"**I thought-" she tried to explain, but apparently Caleb didn't want to hear any excuses or reasons. He cut her off by slamming his mouth over hers, pushing her head harder against the door. For a brief second, Lisa wanted to return his kiss. She wanted to erase Cheryl's kiss, and make him forget just for a moment that she ever existed. Just as quickly as it had come, the searing desire vanished as she felt Caleb's slender fingers digging sharply into her flesh. Her whole body tensed against his kiss, and she feebly attempted to push him off of her once again. _Nothing _about this felt right.

Caleb didn't budge- in fact, he pressed his entire body tightly against hers, their chests colliding violently and his legs trapping hers against the door. She was completely defenseless, and she knew it. Lisa retreated deeply into her mind, just has she had...the last time. It wasn't happening- it _couldn't _be happening. There was absolutely no way in Hell that Lisa was there, her security being violated by a man that she was supposed to be able to_trust_, while Jackson slept somewhere in the same building, unable to help her. No one could help her.

Caleb pulled her away from the door without breaking the kiss, gripping her hair tightly in his fingers and wrapping his other arm around her shoulders, pressing her tightly against his chest. Lisa suddenly was pulled back into the present, and she felt an abrupt change in the air. She knew that she should be terrified, disgusted, but she could taste the hot desperation in his kiss. A strong pain jolted through her heart, a mix of anger at how he was treating her and an overwhelming, irrational sympathy. Caleb wasn't just some asshole pinning her to a door- she knew better than that. Something was very wrong with him.

She moaned in protest, placing her hands on his chest and trying to give him one more shove. She felt his hands move to her shoulders, and he gave her a hard push, sending her stumbling against the door again. She braced herself against the door, trying in vain not to fall to the her knees. She and Caleb stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. His face was twisted in a violent emotion that she couldn't understand. Lisa brought a hand to the back of her head, trying to sooth the throbbing pain as Caleb quickly turned away from her. Her mouth was bone dry- no words would come. And even if they could, what exactly was she supposed to _say_? She slid up the door, letting her hand fall to the doorknob as she debated whether or not she should run. But where would she go? She didn't know which rooms Ben _or _Jackson were staying in. And even if she did, Ben wasn't even _in _his room, and she didn't have his phone number...

So what was she supposed to do? Stay there with this possessed man who had just _attacked _her? Who had _hit_ her? She shook her head. _If you __**really **__thought that way about him, you would have left already without thinking of the next step._Lisa shrank against the door when Caleb spun around again. He stormed over to the bed where his suit jacket still lay, and pulled a card from the pocket.

He approached her again, his face obscured by shadows. He refused to meet her eyes as he shoved the plastic card into her hand. "Jackson's in 1205," he spat, pulling her by the forearm away from the door and opening it. "You need to just get the fuck out of here- _now_." He gave her a final shove and tried to slam the door, but Lisa quickly jumped in the way, crying out in pain when her left arm was crushed against her ribs as the door rammed into her.

**"**I can't go to him," she insisted, her voice breaking as Caleb reappeared from the other side of the door, his eyes still seething. She knew that she was in no state to go to Jackson at the moment. She was too shaken...he would know immediately that something was wrong and she was a horrible liar. She was upset with Caleb of course, but more importantly, she wanted to know what had set him off so badly. This just wasn't like him, to say the least. Before she knew why he was acting like this, she couldn't go to Jackson. She couldn't imagine what he would do if she told him what had just happened, but she knew it wouldn't be good. _Yet another understatement._

She hated to admit it, but there was a small part of her that was still terrified by what had just happened. Caleb had looked too much like Jackson had back in her father's house...she didn't think she could face _either _of them at the moment. Especially when she recalled that brief moment during which she had _wanted _it. She hadn't been confused- she had been well aware that it was Caleb kissing her, but she still had wanted it. How could she look Jackson in the eye and keep _that _a secret?

**"**I know something's wrong," she continued, and Caleb's lips curled into a faint sneer. "I'm going to have Ben come get me...I want to talk to you before Jackson finds out what you did, but..." She swallowed hard, trying to think of a delicate way to say it. "I'll give you your space first. Alright?"

Mentioning the consequences of Jackson finding out seemed to sober Caleb somewhat. He nodded, fishing in his pocket for his phone and shoving it into her outstretched hand before firmly shutting the door, forcing Lisa to step back into the hallway. She quickly pulled up Ben's number- Caleb only had two numbers in his contacts- and hit dial.

**"**It's Lisa," she said when she heard Ben answer the phone. She could hear the traffic on his end, and knew that he must not be home yet. "Can you come get me?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady. She knew that Ben cared a lot more about Caleb than her, and if she made it sound like something was really wrong, he would probably just show up for him and leave her stranded.

* * *

Caleb paced back and forth across the room, tightly gripping his own hair with his fingers. He approached a decorative vase on the dresser, and sent it crashing to the floor with one hit. He stormed out onto the balcony and gripped the railing tightly, leaning out to look at the street below. Walking back into the room, he picked up the box of bullets and threw them at the nearest wall, leaving a dent in the painted plaster.

* * *

**"**Why?" Ben replied, sounding slightly irritated. Lisa bit her lip, trying not to take his tone personally. It _was _an odd request.

"Caleb wants to be alone and Jackson is sleeping...I don't want to bother him," she replied, figuring it wasn't exactly a lie. Ben sighed.**"**Just wake him up," he snapped, yawning. He just probably really wanted to get home and sleep. "He's been sleeping since before we left- he might be awake already." Lisa bit her lip. Why couldn't he just make this easier?

* * *

Cheryl was dead. And worse, Caleb had had to stand there and watch _Lisa _of all people pull the trigger because he couldn't do it himself. No, he would have, for fuck's sake- she didn't _let _him. He knew that things had been over long before this incident, but to stand there and watch the woman's brains blown across the cold kitchen floor, stare into those lifeless green eyes...

He ran into the bathroom and threw up in the toilet. It was just too much. He quickly rinsed his mouth, and threw the glass against the mirror, causing both to shatter.

* * *

**"**But he'll want to talk about tonight, and I don't really want to," Lisa insisted, giving him another sort-of truth. She winced, hearing crashes coming from hers and Caleb's room. She hoped she was doing the right thing by leaving him like that. "Please?"

**"**So don't bring it up. Since when does he start conversations about feelings?" Ben retorted, and Lisa remained silent. She had no response to that. He sighed, sounding annoyed. "Fine," he conceded. "You're obviously not going to let it go." Lisa felt fresh tears silently slide down her cheeks. She really didn't need his attitude right now. She had been trying to hold it together so far, but she was losing the battle.

* * *

Caleb angrily wiped hot tears away from his eyes. He was disgusting. There was absolutely no excuse. But what Lisa had done...who the hell did she think she was? Who was _she _to come barging into their lives and turn everything upside down? Caleb grabbed the tray on the bathroom counter with both hands, sending the entire set of glasses crashing to the floor. There was _no _excuse. But...God, killing his _wife _in front of his eyes? He hated her. He despised her. He wanted her to burn, and had known exactly how to do it. But no...he was too much of a chickenshit to go through with _that_, either...thankfully.

* * *

**"**Thanks," Lisa managed, closing the phone before he could reply. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, but more tears fell. She walked down the hallway, trying to remain objective. What was the "right" thing to do in this kind of situation? She kept reminding the tiny protesting voice that she knew Caleb enough to know that he wouldn't just attack her because he was upset. So how could she turn him over to Jackson, for whom hitting women was definitely a sensitive subject? But how could she let him get away with it?

_Get a grip, Leese- it's not like he __**punched **__you, and it was just a kiss. _An unwanted kiss, and he wasn't going to stop. _But he did. He stopped himself. _If he hadn't...Lisa shook her head. He _had. _That was the important thing, right? Can you punish someone for what they _almost _do? Well, she couldn't even really say that he had _almost _raped her...it hadn't even been close. So it was more like punishing him for what he was theoretically capable of doing...wasn't it? Lisa shook her head firmly, exiting the elevator. She was starting to sound like Caleb, always justifying things and bringing logic to places where it didn't seem to belong. But she actually found that it was helping her to look at it that way- it left no room for the painful memories the moment had brought to light and the heavy emotions it provoked.

* * *

Caleb walked back into the main room. He couldn't have really done that to her, could he? It was despicable, the lowest of the low. But she had it coming. He knocked over one of the chairs, ignoring the cracking sound it made against the floor. He made his way to the mini bar and grabbed a small bottle of vodka, dropping into a different chair.

No...she hadn't deserved _any _of it, and he knew it. He drank the entire bottle and coughed violently, hitting himself once in the chest. What the _fuck _had he been thinking? In was inexcusable, unforgivable, disgusting...he couldn't even think of enough words to describe what he had done to her.

Caleb tossed the empty bottle aside and buried his face in his hands, roughly rubbing his cheeks and forehead. How the _fuck _was he ever going to be able to apologize for this? How would he ever be able to forgive himself for taking one of the most traumatic experiences of Lisa's life and using it against her? What would happen when _Jackson _found out?

And _how_? How had it even happened? How had he lost control of himself so horribly? He didn't even _like _the bitch, for Christ's sake. Yes, he had had a moment of weakness in Jeff's house where he had thought that he still loved her, but he had been caught up the emotions of the moment. It had passed. Why had it been so difficult to pull that trigger? What was so massively wrong with what Lisa had done? Nothing. She had been trying to help- he could see that now. What was wrong with _him_?

Echoes of a distant memory plagued his brain. He heard his father yelling, his mother screaming. Caleb rose to his feet quickly and raced for another bottle of vodka. He wasn't his father. He _knew _he was better than that. He knew it, but how the hell had this happened? He drank from the bottle and dropped onto the bed, groaning loudly. Vodka was his drink of choice, but he wasn't used to having it straight. But then, he wasn't really drinking for fun, so it seemed pointless to make it taste better.

He hadn't been lying when he had told Lisa that the past hadn't affected him as much as it did his brother. Why was it all coming up now? Caleb threw the empty bottle across the room, but it simply bounced on the carpet. He felt so drained. He felt like such an asshole. And more than anything else, he just felt pathetic. He closed his eyes, but all he saw was Lisa, her eyes wide and full of terror...and _sympathy_?

He groaned, bringing a hand to his forehead. It just didn't feel real. New images flashed through his mind, Robert's life draining away in front of his eyes, the sickening crunch of that man's- what the hell was his _name?_- trachea smashing under his boot heel. And now Lisa. The dull thud as her small body hit the door, rattling the hinges. Her terrified moan when he had _kissed _her. The stomach-churning rush of total power when he realized that she was struggling, but had no chance.

Had he really done all that? Did he really have a list of people he had killed that ran longer than Santa's fucking "nice kid" list? And why had he done it? As the alcohol began taking effect, Caleb's mind went back to the time that he hadn't really thought about in years. He remembered laying in his bed, listening to the sounds that his parents made so often that it almost became normal for him. No, not almost- it _was _normal.

He_ hadn't _taken it like Jackson had. He had rationalized it, refusing to get as upset about it. He had rationalized it until it had made _sense_, and then dismissed it as just another event.

When he had the gun to Cheryl's head, all he could see was his mother on the floor and Jackson standing over her, threatening to kill her as he had just done to their father. The vivid memory had made his stomach churn, and he had been unable to take that final step. He had never really forgiven Jackson for what he had done. He gave it logic and cataloged it like the rest, but he had never really faced the fact that Jackson murdered their father in cold blood and then had turned the gun on their mother, just as he had never really faced what their father had done to their mother.

He didn't think he was angry with Jackson- in fact, he had always understood it- but he was realizing that he had never gotten closure. Neither of them had. Jackson faced it by refusing to allow any emotion other than apathy, and he had given it _reason_. Had he done it so well that it took facing not just the idea, but the _reality _of killing his own wife to bring back the fact that such things just couldn't be justified with logic? If so, Lisa was just an innocent bystander. Hell, taking the gun from him and doing it herself could very well have been the right thing to do.

Caleb kicked the nightstand in frustration, knocking it onto its side and sending the contents to the floor. What was he supposed to do with this? How could a person really get closure for an event that happened over a decade previously? He ran his hand over his chin and up his jaw, sighing heavily as he tugged on his hair. One thing was for sure- he had to apologize to Lisa and face Jackson- Hell, face _both _of them. He couldn't explain away his behavior with logic and reason like he might have done in the past, and there _definitely _couldn't be any "I don't know what I was thinking" or "I couldn't help myself".

Could he make either of them understand when he wasn't sure that even _he _really understood? Caleb's thoughts traveled back to his brother. He had been facing a lot of buried pain lately, and seemed to be getting closer to some kind of resolution. He had noticed time and time again the small changes in his twin, and had mentioned more than once that Lisa played a big role.

Maybe that was the problem. He had never really talked about his parents with anyone, even Jackson. They both had dealt with it in their own ways, keeping it private. Maybe he needed to open up to someone as well, but who? Who did he have that he could confide in? Jackson? His brother probably knew him the best out of anyone, but they had never been very good at talking openly with each other. Lisa? He hardly knew her, but she was so easy to talk to...but of course, she probably hated him now.

Caleb squeezed his eyes closed again, futilely fighting back his tears. He had never wanted so badly to talk to someone, but it wasn't an option. He pulled himself to his feet, swaying as he made his way back to the minibar. If he couldn't figure out this shit, drinking himself into a stupor seemed like the next best choice, and definitely the more appealing of the two.

The real question was if there any way to fix what he had done, and Caleb just didn't know the answer. He quickly drank the next bottle, grabbing the mini bar as his knees buckled. That shit was strong, burning his chest like the fumes of acetone, but not strong enough. He didn't want to feel _anything_. He brought his fist down hard on the mini bar top...not good enough- he still felt the pain in his hand and in his head. Caleb grabbed the last bottle of vodka and stumbled toward the door.

He didn't know if there was enough liquor in the world to help him, but he knew for sure that there wasn't enough in the room. Almost losing his balance as he turned around again, he headed for his jacket before remembering that Ben's room key was still in his pants pocket. **"**Fuck," he mumbled as he headed out the door. This was usually the point when he would stop drinking, but not tonight. He staggered down the hallway, drinking as he walked. Maybe he needed a mini paper bag to go with his mini bottle...

* * *

Ben pulled out his phone again as he drove toward the hotel. He wasn't dense- he could hear in Lisa's voice that there was something she wasn't telling him, and whatever it was made her not want to be with either Rippner. Despite how much he teased and provoked her, he didn't think she was stupid either. She knew damn well that Jackson of all people wouldn't prod her to talk about how she was feeling.

No, it was something else. And it was probably that same something between Caleb and Lisa as they had left Joe Reisert's house. Lisa had called from Caleb's phone, so Ben couldn't contact _him. _He decided to do the next best thing and dialed Jackson's number.

He wasn't surprised when he was greeted by an alert-sounding Jackson. He had always figured that Jackson had somehow programmed himself to never sleep through a phone call, especially on the night of a job. _Robo-Jackson is unimpressed with your assumptions, Benjamin._

**"**Lisa's staying at my place tonight," he explained, skipping the pleasantries. "She won't tell me why, but I'm pretty sure something's up with Caleb- you should probably check on him."

**"**What went wrong?" Jackson asked tensely, and Ben picked up on the rarely-heard concern in his voice. He had no idea why the two brothers insisted on having that tension between them when they obviously meant the world to each other, but it wasn't his business.

**"**Nothing that I know of," he replied honestly. "But they were both acting pretty strangely on the ride back, and Lisa sounded pretty upset. She was trying to hide it, but she's a lousy actress." He shrugged. "It might be just as simple as they both had a shitty night, but I don't know."

**"**Maybe," Jackson replied, but he didn't sound convinced. "I'll go see him, and-" He abruptly stopped, and Ben couldn't help but smile faintly. The guy really was a softy under that hard exterior sometimes.

**"**I'll take good care of her," he assured his former teammate. "Promise." He grinned. "And I don't mean it like the agency 'take care of her' kind of thing," he continued, unable to resist teasing Jackson. "I'll try very hard to be nice to her." It wouldn't be _that _hard. He didn't dislike Lisa- in fact, he was rather fond of her most of the time. He just didn't like being used or lied to, and that wasn't so unreasonable, was it?

Against his better judgment, he continued, his voice now grave. "You should have seen them leaving that house. He was pulling her by the arm like he _wanted _to rip it from her socket and she was just some rag doll..._something _happened, but I don't know what. They were totally silent the entire ride back...like they were both in some other world." He had meant to keep that part from Jackson. He knew that he could be reading too much into it, and also knew his friend well enough to know that he wouldn't take it well. "Cheryl was totally fucking with Caleb most of the ride there- hugging him, wishing him a fucking happy anniversary, for Christ's sake. And she and Lisa definitely had some kind of chat in the backseat that Lisa didn't seem to appreciate much."

**"**I see," was all Jackson said, but Ben could hear the barely-contained anger rising in his voice. Ben frowned when he heard the line go dead. He should have kept his mouth shut. He hung up, pulling up to the entrance of the hotel where Lisa was waiting for him.

* * *

Caleb dropped against Ben's door, resting his head against the cold metal. He brought a hand to his face, rubbing his eyes with his fingers...nope, he was still crying. No good. He leaned forward and slammed his head back against the door. He shook his head roughly, trying to rid his mind of the image of Cheryl's scarlet blood splattered across the honey-colored wood floor, mixing with the gasoline like a macabre marble cake.

He reached his hand into his pocket to pull out the key card, but his fingers brushed against a small piece of metal. Caleb swallowed hard as he pulled out Cheryl's wedding ring, staring at it. He pursed his lips and his eyebrows furrowed as he watched the light bounce off the diamond, remembering how disgustingly happy he had been when he had proposed.

It wasn't really romantic- he had had to propose over the _phone _because of Jackson's efforts to keep them apart. But she had said yes, and...things had been good. Better than they had been in a long time. Caleb had actually thought that he was on his way to building a stable family. How wrong he had been.

Blinking the new tears out of his eyes, he slid the band onto his own pinkie- it would always serve as a reminder of how gullible he had been.

Caleb slid his hand down to the door and managed to unlock it, losing his balance as he fell into the room. He hit the carpet hard, his hands barely breaking his fall before his face followed. He slowly pulled himself to his feet, swaying dangerously as he staggered toward Ben's mini bar. He reached in, clumsily knocking the unwanted liquor to the carpet before grabbing the four vodka bottles...his new best friends.

**"**Whaddya think, Stoli?" he slurred, making his way to Ben's bed. "Why can't this guy keep his shit _clean_?" He dropped the bottles onto the bed and leaned over, clearing his friend's clothes and extra weapons from the comforter with an exaggerated shove. "I know, right?" He chuckled, dropping onto his stomach on the bed.

**"**Oh, Stoli," he moaned, rolling himself onto his back. "I fucked up." He slid his hand over the comforter, trying to find one of the bottles. "Real bad..." He opened the bottle, chugging the burning liquid. "Why am I like this?" he asked, but received no reply. "Can't talk to you either, can I?" Not even the vodka wanted to listen.

He grimaced- it was too damn hot in that room. He pulled his shirt off and tossed it aside. Actually...Stoli was a great listener. Just not so good at giving advice. Maybe that's why he loved her so much. Just listening- no judgment. He didn't have to worry about _her _thinking that he was a pathetic excuse for a man. He awkwardly unbuttoned his pants, slowly sliding them over his legs. Fuck. He sat up abruptly as the pants caught on his shoes, and almost fell on his face once again.

He glanced at the tiny bottles. "A little help?" He laughed loudly. "Oh, but you can't- you're a fucking _bottle_. Poor Stoli..." He reached down, pulling his shoes off his feet, throwing them across the room. He winced when he heard another crash- too loud. He obviously needed more liquor, and helped himself to yet another bottle. He couldn't even taste it anymore- he was definitely on the right track.

Caleb laughed loudly as he scanned the room. _What a mess... _Why was his head so heavy? He couldn't even keep it upright anymore. And his eyes just didn't want to stay open. What the hell? He was _fine. _He laughed again, trying to imagine if Jackson were there now...he'd probably call him a lightweight.

Well, fine. He was a lightweight. Made perfect sense. A chickenshit lightweight who beat women. Fantastic.

Caleb dropped onto his back again and rolled over with great effort, trying to pull himself to the pillows at the head of the bed. He gave up, dropping heavily to the mattress with a muffled groan. Too much effort...and he was so comfortable where he was. He didn't need to drink anymore anyway. He was already feeling much better.

* * *

**Heavy stuff. Please R&R- chapter 31 is already on the way, and you lovely people really inspire me to get these out faster and better!**

**And I totally drank straight vodka while writing Caleb's drinking scene, because I needed to know what it tastes like. So if it got a little odd...blame Stoli. I've heard she's kind of a bitch anyway.**


	32. The Baptism

**I have to admit, I was a little worried that some people were going to freak out and take the last chapter all wrong, but you guys are awesome! This chapter is shorter and a little more filler-like while we wait for Caleb to become coherent again. But I do want to point out that as long as I make ff's deadline, this chapter is being posted on 12-7, and according to my timeline, it's 12-7 in the story as well- I kind of LOVE that. :D**

**Note: From now on, the guest reviews are going to be submitted for moderation due to an...incident...over the last few days. If you're curious, it's all still there, but I don't allow people insulting my reviewers (because you guys are absolutely the best). If people want to personally insult me or rip apart the story, fine, but I'm not allowing attacks aimed at my reviewers.**

**trudes193- **Caleb didn't do what he did because he _desires _Lisa. He wanted to hurt her- no romance or passion. As for Caleb's freak-out, I figure since it's the middle of the night and those luxury hotels are insulated fairly well, no one's going to be calling the cops.**_  
_**

**Eva- **Thanks! It did go longer than I intended, but like you said, once you start...I didn't feel like splitting it in half. You're right about the Rippner boys- they are both protective of Lisa. Unfortunately, they've created this little monster who insists on being involved. :D Honestly, I have no idea how to _end _this story. It's like you said...it just keeps going. :P By the way, if you sign in, I can send you the little previews/side stories that reviewers usually get. :)

**Guest(1)- **Still no sexytimes planned. :)

**KnoKnayme- **Thanks! I wrote a little more Ben than I planned since I know a lot of you like him (and I do too)**.**

**Perhaps-A-Star- **I know you've been around a while- I swear I've seen a review from you before. :) Thanks for the support! This one will be a little less of a rollercoaster, but there's more coming.

**MademoiselleGF- **It's all good...it's been crazy here too. Are you a student as well?

lol I don't think you're a misogynist unless I'm one for having enjoyed writing the scenes. I agree with you on the secret thing, at least from Lisa's perspective. We'll have to see what Caleb wants to do though. You _really _want me to kill Lisa, don't you? I love it!

Caleb and his new BF Stoli. :D And thanks sooo much- you're one of the first (maybe the first, actually) to say have any kind of sympathy for Cheryl. I actually liked writing her- it was fun to _never _go into her POV so we have no idea if she's just screwing with people or being honest, or what her exact motivations were. And the rest, too- I can't stand straight-up good or bad characters. I think almost everyone has the capacity for both.

Sorry about confusing you. :( I'll put line breaks if I ever do the quick changes again like 30 or Psycho Killer, but usually it's just split in half or thirds, so it shouldn't be too bad.

**Jesscah- **You live agaaaain! Good luck with exams, sweetie! I miss chatting with you!

**Pirate Gyrl- **Yeah, Caleb had quite the mindfuck. Now the question is will Jackson understand...if he ever finds out :) Lisa made the right choice giving the situation time to cool down, I think.

Thanks! I enjoy expanding on Caleb. I feel like the two brothers are so intertwined that learning more about Caleb helps to understand more about Jackson. They kind of feed off the other, but yes- they _definitely _need some major communication.

**Victoria and Betty- **Thanks for the support, ladies. That "guest" (definitely not a welcome one) had been doing this for almost two days, but it looks like they're done now. I'd remove their reviews, but I can't really be bothered. I wouldn't worry about it too much, though...the anger they spewed was too personal to be some random troll who just happened to find the story. It was fairly personal (I thought) and I'm pretty sure I know who is behind it. Thanks again for having my back, and don't worry- I don't let people like that stop me from writing or change how I do things.

**Onward****! **

* * *

**Chapter 31: The Baptism**

Jackson quickly walked down the hallway, using most of his self-control not to break into an all-out run. He had no idea what to expect, but Ben had sounded pretty worried. What could possibly have happened to make Lisa want to leave the hotel instead of just coming to him? What had she seen?

He pulled out the key card Caleb had given him, unlocking the door. Pushing open the door, he was startled at the scene in front of him. "Startled" was an understatement, really. He paced throughout the suite, his heart rate increasing as he realized that there was no sign of his brother except for broken glass, ceramic, and an upset chair that had seen better days.

Jackson roughly ran a hand through his hair, clenching his fist in the strands. Where would Caleb go? He glanced down at the ground again, and noticed empty liquor bottles scattered throughout the room. So he was drinking...not a surprise. Jackson did a quick inventory of the mini bar. He quickly figured out that Caleb had run out of vodka, and knew that his brother didn't really enjoy any other hard liquor...but would he even have cared _what _he was drinking?

But where else would he be except looking for more liquor? Jackson clenched his jaw, hoping that his brother wasn't on the street. He pulled out his phone and dialed Caleb's number, but received only voicemail. _Jesus_. It was almost four in the morning, so he couldn't imagine Caleb trying to buy liquor anywhere, but again, that was _if _he was in his right mind, and Jackson had no idea. Another quick scan of the suite yielded no sign of blood, so he probably wasn't injured.

He knew that Caleb hadn't come to his room, because at the very least, he would have passed him...the chances of them missing each other on the elevators were slim to none. So...where else? Jackson spun on his heel, racing out of the room. Of course- he could be in Ben's room. It was the only other specific place he could think of, and if that didn't work, what then? Walk the streets of Miami looking for him?

As Jackson approached Ben's room, he saw that the door was against the frame, but not closed. Well, that was a plus- he didn't have a key. He inhaled deeply as he gently touched the handle, wishing that he was religious so he could pray to _someone _that his brother was on the other side of the door.

He pushed the door slowly, but threw it open when he saw the man sprawled on the bed. Thank..._someone_. He quickly reached his brother and stood over him, his throat tightening. He saw three more empty bottles...what was Caleb trying to _do_? For fuck's sake, he was a _doctor_- he knew how dangerous that amount of alcohol in that short of time could be.

Jackson's fears were confirmed when he shook Caleb roughly, rolling him onto his back, and received no response. He was out cold. He narrowed his eyes. If Caleb had actually given himself alcohol poisoning...he didn't even want to think about it. As a last-ditch effort, he gently slid his fingers along his brother's jawline, pressing hard with his index and middle finger on the soft patch of skin where jaw met neck.

He sighed in relief when Caleb stirred, his head pulling away from Jackson's touch. So he was just passed out...that wasn't as bad, but still not okay, really. Jackson sank onto the bed, dropping next to Caleb. He gently turned him onto his side, knowing that in reality, he should probably move him into the bathroom in case he threw up. But Jackson wasn't about to force his brother to lie on cold tile.

He moved his hand down to Caleb's arm when he noticed that the other man was trembling. He felt how cold his skin was and reached back, maneuvering the two men to pull the comforter over Caleb's body. The shivering ceased, and Jackson sat in silence, running his fingers through his brother's hair and listening to his steady breathing. Still somewhat paranoid, he checked his watch as he counted the breaths...10. The rate was slow, but not dangerously so.

Jackson ran a hand through his hair, the bitterness rising in his chest making it hard to breathe. He had screwed up Caleb's life so badly. He had heard the argument "he chose to go into the agency with you- it's not your fault" a few times in his head, but to him, it wasn't true. Yes, it was Caleb's choice, but they had become so dependent on each other by the time they left college that he would have followed Jackson anywhere.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, watching his brother sleep. And he was. There were too many "should haves" in his actions where his brother was concerned. He should have kept them _both _away from the agency. Jackson needed the agency- it was the only place where felt truly alive- but he would gladly give it up if it had kept Caleb from all that death, from Cheryl.

He should have had Jeff call Thomas at Jackson Memorial instead of Cheryl. Logically, he had had _no _reason to contact his brother and bring him into it. But he had been sure that he was about to die, and he had just wanted his brother there, similar to the way he had told Lisa his name in the airport because he had wanted her to know it.

He rested his elbow on his thigh and buried his face in his free hand, forcing himself to face the fact that when he strayed from his plans, he ruined lives.

He should have refused to let Caleb go to Joe's house. Even if it meant being immature and hogtying Caleb like he had back when they were seven and he was holding him "hostage" as a prisoner of war, he should have kept him away from that damn house.

He had always been the one in charge, and Caleb had been his follower. But it was apparent that he had lead them in a very wrong direction, and he hated that there was absolutely nothing he could do to fix it. This wasn't a "sorry" kind of thing. It was a "hopefully this will heal with time" sort of problem. Neither were Jackson's specialties.

No, Jackson excelled at pretending that he didn't care, that these kinds of things didn't hurt him. But how could he ignore _this_? How could he pretend that it didn't rattle him that his brother had drunk an obscene amount of alcohol and was passed out next to him? Even if he could ignore his own brother or pretend that he had just been irresponsible with his liquor, he couldn't block out the images of the hotel suite that he had left shredded in his wake...the empty bottles, the shattered glass and ceramic...the destruction was impossible to misinterpret.

Jackson snapped his attention to Caleb again when he felt his body start to spasm. He quickly pulled Caleb to his feet, escorting the barely-conscious man to the bathroom. He lowered Caleb to his knees and helped him lean over the toilet, cringing when the other man violently emptied his stomach. He heard his brother mumble, but couldn't make out what was being said. At least he was still somewhat awake- that was a good sign.

Jackson kept an arm around his brother's shoulders for support as he helped into a sitting position. The barely younger man swayed dangerously, obviously not ready to fully wake up.

"You need some water," he told Caleb, reaching toward the counter. He stretched his fingers as far as he could to turn on the faucet, grabbing a glass and filling it. Caleb gave another mostly unintelligible reply, but ended with '_you _need water...'

"Nope," Jackson replied, barely suppressing a grin. "I'm good." He lifted the glass to Caleb's lips, tipping back his head, but not forcing the liquid down his throat. Caleb began to swallow the water as Jackson poured it _very _slowly, but then he clumsily swiped at the glass, knocking it to the floor with a loud shatter.

Jackson jerked in surprise, almost losing his grip on his brother. "Fuggoff," he heard Caleb mumble, his eyelids fluttering closed again. Jackson sighed heavily, sitting next to him.

"Don't do that," he rebuked, shifting as Caleb collapsed onto him, his back pressed against Jackson's chest. It was going to take more than words to get him to leave at this point. He rubbed his brother's shoulders to keep him warm, trying to stay alert so he could notice if the other man was about to throw up again.

He knew that he should be focused on his brother, but something about that Ben had said about Lisa was nagging at him. Several things, really, but one main question- _why _was she staying at Ben's apartment? If she was upset, why didn't she come to _him_? He heard Caleb's breathing steady again as the other man lost consciousness again.

Jackson pulled his phone from his pocket, dialing Lisa's number. The call went straight to voicemail...did she _not _know what a phone charger was for? Shaking his head, he dialed Ben's number.

"How is he?" Ben greeted, getting right to the point. He sounded more concerned than usual, even more so than he had been when he had first called Jackson.

"Very drunk," Jackson replied as Caleb groaned softly. He waited, but no more sounds came from the younger man. "I'm not getting anything from him tonight."

"Oh," came the simple reply. Jackson narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Ben was hiding something from him- he was almost _too _casual now.

"I need to talk to Lisa," he said. "Her phone's dead...give her yours," he explained before Ben could make a stupid remark like 'then call her.'

"She's not really in a talking mood," Ben replied, and then paused. "She's pretty upset." Jackson rolled his eyes. _Obviously _she was upset- she just helped set her dad's goddamn _house _on fire.

"Put her on the phone," he ordered calmly. Another pause, and Jackson could barely make out Lisa's voice, but couldn't understand what she was saying. She didn't sound happy, but again...that was no surprise. He stared at a deformation in the bathroom wallpaper, listening to what sounded like bickering between the two of them.

"No," Ben finally replied, his voice firm. Jackson arched an eyebrow. Ben continued before he could say anything. "I told you that I was going to be nice to her and she _doesn't want _to talk to you, alright?"

Jackson slowly took a deep breath. "_Giveherthefuckingphone_," he snapped, clenching his jaw.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Ben muttered, his voice fading as he handed the phone off. "I try to be a nice guy, but noooo..." Jackson shook his head. What a drama queen. To be fair, Ben _was _right, but Jackson didn't want to hear it. Something was wrong with Lisa, and he wasn't going to take 'no' for an answer.

Jackson's frown deepened when he heard a meek 'Hi' from Lisa. He hesitated for a moment, trying to figure out where to go next. He just wasn't used to getting information out of someone like Lisa who would usually share what was on her mind whether or not he asked or even really wanted to hear it.

"Why are you at Ben's?" he asked, deciding to go the straight route. He immediately regretted it, knowing that he should have started by asking how she was taking everything. He just wished there was a way to make her magically get over it. He personally thought that Lisa was better off without her dad. He knew that Joe had been her rock, but rocks weigh people down.

"I wanted to get out of there," Lisa responded quietly, and did not elaborate. Jackson sighed heavily at how broken she sounded. The constant 'Are you okay? Are you sure?' she got from her father had definitely served to keep Lisa thinking that things _weren't _okay, and it seemed to him that she had never really been challenged to leave her comfort zone. Well, except for the rape, but as far as Jackson could tell, that had only pushed her further into her self-pity.

"Well," he began, suddenly irritated, "hope you feel better." He hung up the phone, tossing it aside on the tile. If she didn't want to speak to him, then he wasn't going to force her. Fuck it- let Ben comfort her if that was what she really wanted.

He reached up behind him, awkwardly filling another glass of water and bringing it back down, giving Caleb a shake. He reached around, placing the glass in Caleb's hand and hoping for a better reaction than the last time. His brother lifted the glass to his lips, only half-conscious. Jackson kept his hand on the glass in case Caleb decided to toss it again.

God, Jackson wanted- _needed- _a cigarette, but he wasn't about to drag his brother outside. He pulled the half-empty glass from Caleb's fingers, gently turning their bodies and pulling away to help Caleb rest on the floor, making sure that he was on his side and his knee was bent. Placing his hands on the tile to push himself to his feet, Jackson noted with a frown how cold the floor was, and how Caleb was wearing almost nothing. He would have to get a blanket or dress him, but the other man certainly wouldn't get hypothermia or anything in the time it took Jackson to smoke.

Jackson dropped down heavily on the chaise-lounge, lighting his cigarette. He shouldn't have been so hard on Lisa, but she had cut him by deciding to go to Ben instead of him. He was jealous- not in the sense that he actually thought Lisa felt more for Ben than him, but just for the simple fact that she obviously needed some kind of comfort, and she hadn't gone to _him_.

And he was angry about Lisa's attachment to her father. It was horrible, but it was the truth. Lisa was strong, but she still had so much self-doubt sometimes. She _was _trying though, and Jackson had to give her credit for that. In the eight weeks that he had watched her, he never anticipated her reaction on the airplane, let alone imagine her willingly participating in the recent events. She had started out insisting that she had no choice, but she wasn't making excuses anymore. He hardly recognized her sometimes...and he loved it.

Lisa closed the phone and tossed it back to Ben, crossing her arms. "He's pretty angry with me," she noted sadly, leaning back against the cushions.

Ben shrugged. "What did you expect?" he asked, setting the phone on the coffee table. Lisa shook her head. She knew that he was about to lecture her again, and she wasn't in the mood.

"I _knew _he wouldn't get it," she snapped. "So don't bother telling me all the mistakes I made." She closed her eyes. "Of _course _he's taking it personally- he doesn't know why I'm here." She opened her eyes again, staring sidelong. "He'll probably hate you more now...sorry about that."

Ben shrugged again. "He won't be able to pick me out of a line-up when you tell him what happened." He propped his feet on the coffee table, crossing his ankles. "Too bad you didn't just tell him," he continued. "If Cal's as drunk as he says, Jackie'll be too busy taking care of him to kill him. So he could have used that time to calm down."

"Or get even angrier," Lisa pointed out. "And I don't want to tell him over the phone anyway." She tipped sideways, resting her head on the armrest. "Can I ask you a weird question?" she asked, staring at the hardwood floor.

"Always," Ben replied, sinking further into the couch. Lisa knew that they should get some sleep, but she had too much on her mind to be tired. She had one question that was bothering her that she didn't think she could or should ask either Rippner.

"Am I like Cheryl?" she asked quietly. "I don't mean like betraying people, I just mean personality-wise?" Her cheeks burned slightly when Ben remained silent. Of course he wouldn't understand what she was asking.

"Kind of," he finally replied, obviously confused. "I didn't know her before she was in the agency obviously, and you're not _that _cold yet. But yeah, I see some similarities, I guess." Lisa just nodded. She wasn't really surprised- she had expected that answer. _Yet_.

"You were right about me," she admitted quietly, her face flushing. She could talk to the brothers about how she was feeling without much of a problem lately, but she wasn't completely comfortable around Ben yet. "You and Caleb. I did manipulate him, and I did..._do _judge what you guys do."

"Is this the part where I pretend to be surprised that I'm right?" he replied, nudging the back of her thigh with his elbow. Lisa laughed softly. She wondered if _anything _surprised these agents. Well, Cheryl seemed to surprise them, but still...she almost felt like her they were reading her mind more than half the time. Not Jackson, though...they had _many _misunderstandings and miscommunications.

"Why do you think you and Caleb can read me so well, but Jackson doesn't have a clue sometimes?" she asked. It was probably a big mistake to be opening up to Ben like this, but if Lisa _didn't _talk, she would just obsess over that evening.

Ben sighed loudly, thinking. "Oh, it's probably because he's not being an agent with you, and we are." Lisa furrowed her eyebrows. They still saw her as some kind of mark? Even Caleb? "We're just used to constantly analyzing situations at an arm's length and not getting too emotionally involved with whatever it is. Like you and me. I already told you, you're cool, but that doesn't mean that I won't say whatever I have to if I want to get something from you."

Lisa nodded. "It's just business," she summarized. "I get it. So Jackson sees me as an actual person so he can't be as objective about things?" She kicked Ben lightly, grinning. "Should you really be telling me that you're totally open to manipulating me? Doesn't that sort of defeat the purpose...I'm totally not going to believe anything you say ever again."

Ben laughed, lighting a cigarette. "Then how can you believe that you're just business to me? I said it, after all. Or maybe I told you because I'm manipulating you right now," he teased, and then sobered again. "No, it's true. Believe what you want to. But that's my best guess as to why you two keep fucking it up. You both suck at interpersonal communication."

Lisa laughed again. "Fancy words," she joked, looking up from the couch cushion to see Ben nodding, looking pleased with himself. He was so _weird_. "So I'm guessing that you two don't really hate each other as much as you say," she continued. They worked too well together sometimes. But then...Ben had just said that they were used to separating business and personal aspects, so maybe they put it aside when it came to the job.

Ben winked, taking a drag of his cigarette. "Well, let's put it this way- if he died, I'd send flowers." He paused for a moment. "But I'd send gardenias just to piss him off in Hell." He rubbed his chin. "Yeah, a final little...asshole gesture. He'd probably approve." Lisa frowned again.

"

It would piss him off, but he'd approve?" she asked, confused. "And why gardenias? Does he just hate those flowers?" _That would be so oddly specific..._

Ben laughed again. "Pierre always sent him gardenias, so yes, he hates them." He winked at Lisa. "I'll tell you the story if you stop asking me to be all deep and do this girl talk with you." Lisa rolled her eyes. _Such a __**guy. **_She nodded though- she _did _want to hear the story. It already sounded too weird to be boring, and apparently it was important enough that Ben would think of it for Jackson's hypothetical funeral.

"Okay, so this was our first year at the agency, and we had to get to this weapons dealer," Ben began, stretching. "That was usually our focus- international weapons rings. I've seen enough different guns to make a redneck masterbate just at the thought." He grinned again as Lisa giggled softly at the disgusting image. "Anyway, this guy was totally paranoid and secretive about his routine." He took another drag and gestured to the kitchen, silently asking Lisa to grab him a drink.

She quickly grabbed two beers from the fridge- did these guys _only _drink liquor?- and dropped down on the couch again. She knew that she should probably be averse to hearing stories about their jobs since she didn't really like what they did, but it was oddly fascinating to hear both the stories themselves _and _learn a little more about Jackson's past.

"So we had to get the information through his assistant, this guy named Pierre," Ben continued, taking a drink. "The easiest way to do that is to seduce the person, generally in the long term. Hell, if they like you enough, you can turn them sometimes and get them to do the dirty work." Lisa froze midway to bringing the beer to her lips. They had to _seduce _this Pierre? The same Pierre that 'always' sent Jackson gardenias?

"Jackson _seduced _him?" she asked incredulously, feeling slight disgust. She couldn't- and didn't want to- imagine Jackson with another guy. It was so..._wrong. _She knew he wasn't gay, but how could he be okay with doing something like that?

Ben eyed her, biting his bottom lip to keep from laughing in her face. "So you know he kills people, and that's...understandable...but you find out that he had a completely fake relationship with a man while doing his _job _and _that's _oh my God, so horrible? _Really, _Lisa?" He shook his head.

Lisa frowned, taking the drink. "I just don't see how he could do it," she replied defensively. "I wouldn't do anything like that with another woman just like I wouldn't with a man I'm not attracted to."

Ben lost the battle, laughing loudly. "So would you be that disgusted if I told you how many _women _he's used?" He shook his head when Lisa hesitated. "Don't give me that innocent 'oh, I just blah blah blah' shit. Goddamn hypocrite...not that I care, but still."

Lisa shook her head. She wasn't going to let him paint her as some kind of idiot. "So you're telling me that you never teased him about it?" she demanded. She couldn't imagine _Ben _letting that kind of situation go without some kind of comment.

"Not once," Ben replied. "He did it because he knew French the best out of any of us. I've done it. Caleb's done it. It's a _job_, just the same as if the mark was named Paulette. What is there to tease him about?"

Lisa crossed her arms. "But you said you'd send gardenias to his funeral just to be an asshole. How is _that _not teasing?" she asked, refusing to back down.

"It has nothing to do with the fact that Pierre was a guy," he insisted. "He sent those flowers _every day _for a month, sometimes twice. I think it must have been some inside thing between them, but it was hilarious." He grinned. "I still send him gardenias a few times a year." He tilted his head thoughtfully. "No idea what happened to Pierre though...he ended up killing his own boss for us and they parted ways. He wasn't even that mad...guess Jackson was good in bed or something."

Lisa groaned. He added that last part just to piss her off- she knew it. On some level, she knew that it was ridiculous to get upset about whatever Jackson did with this Pierre, but it was still weird to her. And how could he completely melt into a new personality like that? Or was kissing guys not a big deal to him? She grinned slightly, trying to imagine the awkward conversation revolving around _that _question.

Ben _was _wrong. Lisa didn't really have any opinion about gay people- whatever two people want to do was their business. But how did he not see how strange it was for someone like Jackson- or himself- to act against their orientation just for a job? Or was Ben right- was there no difference between Pierre and however many women Jackson had used?

"I don't _get it_," she admitted, burying her face in the armrest again. "I'm trying to understand-" She cut herself off, frowning. "You told me this story on purpose, didn't you?" She looked up again, staring at Ben accusingly. He just nodded. "You're _trying _to put me off."

"You got it," he replied sharply, putting out his cigarette in an ashtray. "If you can't handle something like _that_, you should definitely walk away after this job is over. There's nothing romantic about it, that's for sure." He squeezed her thigh. "We should get some sleep- we only get a few hours before we should be back at the hotel. If Cal's _that _drunk, Jackson will be watching him, and you can only do that for so long before you just kind of go nuts."

Lisa nodded. "I'm not going to walk away," she insisted, pounding her beer with a grimace. Liquor usually made her somewhat sleepy- maybe it would help now. "And I'm not going to try to get him to leave anymore. I get that it's important to him, you know. I'm not just some little...good girl who needs everything to be on the level."

"Anymore," Ben added, and to Lisa's complete shock, leaned over and poured a small amount of beer onto her head. "It seemed like a baptism moment," he explained over her surprised shriek. Lisa sat up, shaking her head vigorously to scatter the beer droplets.

"You're _insane_," she pointed out, but she still laughed. It was just _beer_- no reason to get upset.

"Are you going to tell him?" Ben asked after her laughter had faded. Lisa sank back against the couch, furrowing her eyebrows.

"I'm not sure" she replied. "I probably should, but if they're already having issues, this isn't going to help. What good would it do anyway?" She shrugged. "It's not like I think Caleb's going to do it again, and I don't need Jackson to defend me or anything like that." She looked at Ben, who looked unphased. "Do you think I should?"

Ben nodded. "Something's definitely wrong with Cal if he's acting like that, and I think Jackson should know about it." He turned to look at her. "Just...if you do tell him, don't try to hold him back." Lisa tilted her head. What was he talking about? "Like you said, they have some issues, and if they're going to fight it out, let them."

Lisa sighed. "What's going to happen?" she asked. Ben finished his beer.

"It'll be bad," he predicted. "I mean, Jackson's already pretty Hitler about the whole violence against women thing- which doesn't _really _make sense since he's dished out his fair share- but this is _you_. And his _brother_." He shook his head. "Basically, if we put it on Pay-Per-View, we'd make a killing...no pun intended."

Lisa groaned again. "Stop trying to get me riled," she replied. "He's _not _going to kill him." _Just...break his face?_She ran a hand through her still-damp hair. "I'm not going to say anything until I talk to Caleb about it...he can decide if he wants him to know." She shook her head bitterly. "It's not like Jackson doesn't have secrets that Caleb should know about," she added, remembering that along with Cheryl, she had killed an unborn child and Caleb still had no idea. Maybe she _owed _Caleb a secret.

She ignored Ben's curious stare, dropping on her side again. No, she definitely owed it to him. She was still a little upset that it had happened, but she refused to believe that it was some kind of desire on Caleb's part _or _a hatred of her. There was something behind his actions, and there really was no reason to tell Jackson unless he wanted to.

"I don't know what you're so worried about," Ben said after a few moments. "You're totally turning into one of us. Where did this logical thinking come from?"

"I think it was the baptism," Lisa replied sarcastically, shutting her eyes. She was too tired to think about it anymore.

"Probably not," Ben replied. "We did the affusion, but I forgot to do the oil cross...I do have some massage oil somewhere. It smells like strawberries- you might like it." He yawned, continuing his babbling as Lisa felt him collapse onto the other armrest. "And you're supposed to be naked."

Lisa scoffed. "Not in the last couple hundred years," she replied, feeling herself drifting off. "Nice try, though."

"Can't blame a guy for trying," he murmured, and Lisa remembered that he had been awake much longer than she had. Poor guy was probably ready to pass out at the drop of a hat.

"Just don't let Jackson hear you say that," she replied, yawning again. "Since you have a history of sleeping with his girlfriends and all..."

Ben snickered. "Low blow," he accused. "Sleep with _one _ex and you're marked for life."

Lisa shook her head. Having him around was like having a little yappy dog sometimes. But he did know when to be serious- she had to give him that. Once Ben was silent, Lisa couldn't help but think about the Rippners. How was Caleb doing? How was Jackson taking it? She was convinced that it would be best to keep her mouth shut about what had happened, but would she be able to once she was face-to-face with Jackson again?

* * *

**Lisa and Ben are bonding! Aw.**

**I realized after getting a PM from one of my reviewers that I should put some kind of explanation for Lisa's reaction to the whole Pierre thing. So here it is:**

**Personally, I hated writing those thoughts/lines of hers. I felt like I kind of had to though, because I realized that I've made her into a bit of a conservative- religious, pro-life, etc. I interpreted her as not necessarily being homophobic to the point that she dislikes gay people, but she's definitely uncomfortable with it. It's just one more "thing" for Lisa to get over. It was one more little push out of the judgmental world she's built.**

Maybe I'm reading the character incorrectly, but she seemed a little high and mighty to me. Like the scene when the woman spills coffee on her at the airport, she says it's fine and all that, but her tone is sooo..."get the hell away from me". And calling Jackson out for asking if the bay breeze was okay with that condescending little "you sound like my dad" speech (mostly the "I'm sure" ending), as though Jackson would know her dad says that (although he probably did :P) and the "if I say yes, are you going to ask me if I'm sure?" stuff. She just came off as a little stuck up to me. I think she's getting better throughout the story, but she's still getting hung up on the little things.

**I didn't have time to send previews for chapter 31 (I'm getting _really _bad about not doing that), but again, I'll make it up to you guys- I have another fun Jackson and Co. side story brewing. This one involves the question "What would you do if you ruled the world?" and Ben has some...interesting ideas. :D**

**R&R!**


	33. Wrong

**Merry Christmas to all of my beautiful readers- even if you don't celebrate it, I still hope you enjoy the day. :D **

**A personal little happy moment- I'm FINALLY graduating! I found the time between life and writing this story to actually pass some damn classes and get that degree.**

**I'm a little nervous about this chapter- it gets a little Ben-centric in the end, and since he's an OC, not sure how many people really care. :P But I like expanding on my OCs because I think it helps to enhance Jackson and Lisa, but especially Jackson...plus I love my little assassins. Also, because I decided to get Caleb completely hammered, he's still unconscious throughout this chapter. He should be up and ready for a fight next chapter though. Hope you enjoy!**

**Eva- **I hear you there. Still wish I could send you little presents though. :) Thanks for the support on the pacing of the story- I _always _worry that it might be dragging.

**Pirate Gyrl- **I know- I loved writing big brother Jackson sooo much! But in my head, it will add to Jackson's anger when (if) he finds out what actually got Caleb so upset. One of those "you made me feel _bad _for you and blame _myself_" kind of things.

I wish I had a Ben around to tell me to put on my big girl panties and deal with it. He's too much fun to write sometimes. He's kind of like Caleb but a bit more bitchy.

**BW4eva- **Looks like you didn't have to wait long. :P A bit of a spoiler alert- I think Caleb's going to be the one to tell Jackson. And in my head, it's not going to go well. Lisa definitely isn't about to make things even _more _difficult between them.

**A little more tension...because there's just not enough yet:**

* * *

**Chapter 32: Wrong**

Jackson tilted his head lazily, skimming through channels. He pulled his knees close, propping up his arms. He glanced down at Caleb, who slept next to him. He was bored- he had been sitting in that same room for six hours with nothing to do except watch television and occasionally force-feed Caleb water. He had debated going downstairs to get a newspaper, but couldn't be bothered to move.

He had stopped stressing hours ago- he could only go over the situation so many times before even that got old. Of course most of the news networks were covering the fire at Joe's house and Lisa. He had seen that same smiling photo more times than he cared to count. Most of the belief of her innocence had faded- now it was just the conspiracy theorists proposing that the government had killed her in some cover-up.

Only Lisa's mother had made any kind of public comment, and Jackson had found himself changing the channel quickly. That woman grated on his nerves- to him, her grief came across as bad acting. She wore clothes that were ten years too young for her and two sizes too tight, and she wore too much make up. Everything about her just seemed to scream for attention. He knew it was one hell of an accusation, but he didn't actually think that she didn't _care _about her daughter- just that she dialed it up, likely subconsciously.

She definitely piqued Jackson's curiosity, though. When he had watched Lisa, it was obvious that she had a close relationship with her father, but when he had seen them together at the funeral reception, he couldn't help but notice that there was space between them. Their hugs had been forced, and by the looks on their faces and their body language, the conversation seemed tense. From the way Lisa pounded the cheap wine and the disapproving glances her mother kept shooting her, Jackson could easily see how uncomfortable she had been.

Jackson had wondered then and again when he had watched the statement, which he could only describe as a press conference, what kind of relationship they had. There was a slim possibility that he was misreading the situation and this was how the woman expressed grief, but he just didn't think so. He wanted to ask Lisa about it, but knew that there was no tactful way to do so, so he left it alone.

It was beneficial to their purposes, but it still nagged at Jackson to have Lisa's name publicly dragged through the dirt like this. He had spent more than a few minutes wondering how different Lisa's life would be if he had never involved himself in the Keefe job, but then he stopped being stupid and remembered that Robert had been planning to kill her anyway.

Jackson yawned widely, resting his face in his palm. He wasn't used to feeling this way- like any job that may seem exciting, much of his time was spent waiting. And where the silence appeared, he had nothing left to do but think or distract himself. But this this time, distraction wasn't an option, and he had all but run out of things to think about. It was like watching the very tail end of a parade he never really wanted to see in the first place- the issues he had already thought about ad nauseum ran through his head, but he didn't pay much attention anymore.

He snapped his attention to the nightstand as his phone vibrated. Ben. Jackson flipped open the phone, holding it to his ear. "Yeah?" he greeted, staring up at the ceiling.

"Where are you?" Jackson was momentarily taken aback when he heard Lisa's voice, especially by the concern in her tone. They must have seen the state of Caleb and Lisa's room.

"Ben's room," he replied. "Caleb's with me." He rolled his eyes slightly when he heard her relay the message to Ben. It was a tiny peeve of his- why couldn't people wait until they were off the phone to do stuff like that?

"We'll be there in a minute," she told him. "Are you okay?" Jackson furrowed his brows, straightening his posture against the headboard.

"Am I okay?" he repeated. Why would she even ask that? Well, he was thrown off by what was going on, but he would bet his condo that it didn't even compare to what Lisa had gone through. And yet here she was, asking _him_ if he was okay.

"Yeah," Lisa replied. "You seemed kind of upset last night." Jackson couldn't help but grin in disbelief.

"I seemed upset," he paraphrased, shaking his head. "Why are you even..." he trailed off, unsure of what he was trying to say. This was so strange to him.

"Why wouldn't I?" she asked. He laughed nervously.

"Because..." he replied hesitantly, "...I should be asking you." He turned to the door as it opened and Ben walked in, followed by Lisa. She locked eyes with Jackson, still holding the phone to her ear.

"But you know better," she reminded him, a strange glint in her eyes. For all intents and purposes, she looked the same, but Jackson felt like he was looking at a different woman. She was definitely taking that whole "new life, new person" idea to heart. Or whatever she and Ben had talked about had helped her more than talking to Jackson could.

He nodded, forcing the little stab of jealousy out of his mind. "I do," he replied, closing the phone, "so I'll ask how you're doing instead." He eyed the McDonald's bag in Lisa's hand, and his stomach growled softly. Even shitty fast food sounded delicious.

Lisa climbed on the bed, sitting next to Jackson. "We brought you lunch...or brunch, I guess." she explained, offering the bag.

Ben dropped down on the other side of Caleb, gesturing at the sleeping man. "How's he doing?" he asked, leaning over and taking the remote from Jackson's hand.

Jackson shrugged, pulling a Big Mac box from the bag. "He's just sleeping it off now," he replied. "Hopefully he'll be fine for tonight."

Ben raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Yeah, I'm sure that's what you're worried about," he remarked, flipping through the channels. He reached into the bag and snagged a few fries. Jackson remained silent, taking a bite of his burger. He looked over at Lisa, who was watching Caleb, her face full of concern.

He narrowed his eyes and placed his free hand on her jaw, turning her to face him. "What happened?" he asked, referring to the faint bruise near her eye. It looked like she had attempted to cover it with make up, but he could easily see it.

"I hit it on the faucet at Jeff's house," she replied, looking confused as to why he was bringing it up. Jackson stared at her skeptically, but she held his gaze. He finally nodded, releasing her. Had he really missed it before?

"We've been talking about you," she announced, giving him a sweet smile. He nodded slowly, adjusting the bag to give Ben better access.

"Why?" he asked, slightly irritated. Not only had she not answered his original question, he wasn't sure that he liked the idea of Ben telling stories about him.

"Because I want to know more about you," she replied bluntly, "and it's easier to get stuff from them." _Fair enough._ It still bothered Jackson that Lisa felt the need to talk to other people instead of just asking him, but he was well aware of why she was doing it. It wasn't that he didn't _want_ to tell her things about himself- most of the time- he just didn't know where to even start.

"What did he tell you?" he asked curiously, wondering how much he would have to contradict. Ben definitely had a tendency to embellish. Lisa shrugged, watching Ben steal fries with annoyance. "He got them so _he_ could eat them," Jackson explained quickly. He had barely noticed it was happening until he saw Lisa's face- he was as used to Ben's habits as if they were his own.

"Oh," she replied, "Well, he told me about the gardenias, but Caleb told me more." She shrugged. "Not much, though. No big deal." Jackson snapped his attention to Ben. _Why?_ The other man just grinned at him.

"Well, just ask me next time," he said, turning back to Lisa. She opened her mouth to reply, but Ben beat her to it.

"Why? So you can censor the stories?" he teased. Jackson looked back to him again.

"Because you make shit up," he retorted, turning away as Ben clutched his chest in mock offense. Lisa yawned widely, slumping against Jackson's shoulder. He frowned, shifting his trapped arm to wrap it around her shoulders. Maybe they were pushing her too hard. "You know you can talk to me, right?" he asked softly, leaning down to whisper in her ear.

Lisa nodded, turning to face him. "Will we have time later?" she asked. "I want to talk to you alone." Jackson nodded, lightly furrowing his eyebrows. As much as he tried to convince himself that she was obviously upset over what had happened at her dad's house, he couldn't shake the feeling that something else was bothering her. He couldn't explain it- it was just nagging at him. Or maybe it was some kind of bizarre wishful thinking. He had no idea how to help if it was her dad Lisa was upset about it, but if it was something else, a more tangible problem, maybe it could be fixed.

"I could kick him out," he murmured, giving his head a subtle toss in Ben's direction. "Or we could go back to my room. Or yours."

Lisa smiled, shaking her head. "It's fine," she replied, and Jackson felt the irritating hunch again. She was _handling_ him. She was actually trying to handle him like her dad or someone else she didn't really want to talk to. He clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to pull away and leave her alone. Normally he wouldn't even want to pry, but it was different now.

"Bullshit," he whispered. "Something's bothering you, and don't even try telling me that you're fine." He clenched his jaw, knowing that he probably should be acting a little more...tolerant...but he felt insulted by her shutting him out with her pathetic attempt to play it off. And the fact that she was being abnormally reserved in and of itself reaffirmed his theory that something was very wrong.

Lisa dropped her gaze to her lap, and Jackson couldn't help but feel a bit guilty. And concerned. "Can we just talk later?" she asked quietly, bringing her hand up to interlace her fingers with his. "I'm still tired, and..." She frowned, meeting his eyes again. "Please?"

Jackson narrowed his eyes. She wasn't helping him feel any less worried, but he probably wasn't helping her feel any less stressed. He opened his mouth to respond, but was distracted by a hand on his other arm. He quickly turned to look at Ben, who gave him a very subtle shake of the head. Jackson frowned, but nodded quickly, sighing as he turned back to Lisa.

"Alright," he said, relenting. Whatever was going on, Ben seemed to know what it was and if he was telling Jackson to drop it, he would. When it came down to it, he did trust the other man's judgment...most of the time. "Try to get some sleep then. We'll talk later." He squeezed her hand, doing his best to assure both of them that it was alright if she didn't want to talk to him about it.

Lisa smiled gratefully and leaned up to kiss him quickly. Jackson tightened his grip around her shoulders as she relaxed again, feeling slightly self-conscious. He glanced over at Ben, but the other man wasn't even watching them anymore.

The two men were silent for several minutes as Lisa shifted against Jackson, trying to get comfortable. He didn't take his eyes off of her as she appeared to finally drift off. He just wanted to help...but it always seemed to come out wrong. He leaned down, kissing Lisa's forehead in a silent apology.

"I will never understand why you pretend to be inhuman," Ben muttered, finishing the fries. Jackson groaned softly.

"Just to irritate you," he retorted, reaching around him to grab the half-full water from the nightstand.

"I'm touched," Ben replied as Jackson finished the glass.

"Do we have to get out the little doll so you can show me where?" he asked, handing the empty glass to his teammate. Ben scoffed, getting up to refill the water.

"It's not my business," he reminded Jackson, taking a drink. "You do what you want. But for whatever reason, she loves you. So...maybe you should try to be a little less 'you'." Jackson grabbed the glass from him._ Excellent advice..._

"I was always taught to be myself," he replied dryly, playing it off. Ben sat down on the bed again.

"That's unfortunate," he muttered. "because you're a jackass."

Jackson raised his eyebrows. Did he _really_ want to get into this now? "Am I?" he asked hollowly. He had heard it all, but it was hitting home more than usual this time.

"Yes," Ben insisted. "You're an awesome teammate, but you're seriously a shit human being." Jackson shook his head in irritation.

"And you would make a great motivational speaker," he replied. "I think you missed your calling, really." He paused to take a drink from the glass. "We good now?"

"We're good," Ben replied with a nod. Jackson really didn't know how many times they had had this "conversation"- it was almost routine. It went a little differently each time, but the sentiment was the same. Ben got on his nerves, but honestly, Jackson didn't particularly have a legitimate dislike for the man.

Ben was a younger brother to Jackson, or at least how he imagined having one would be. He was irritating at times, amusing at others, but often an inescapable part of his life. He knew that the feeling wasn't mutual- he had done unforgivable things to the other man in the past. The bad blood between them was Jackson's fault.

"What's going on with Lisa?" he asked, changing the subject. There was too much going on to start brooding about his history with Ben on top of everything else.

Ben groaned, taking back the glass. "I knew you were going to ask," he replied, drinking. "And you know damn well I'm not telling you. Well...you do now anyway." Jackson dropped his head back against the headboard.

"You know..." he began, frustrated. All of their secrecy and drama wasn't really helping things. "...forget it. So what now? Do I just pretend that I don't know something's going on? Or should I wake up Caleb and ask _him_?" He clenched his teeth again. "Yeah, let's try that," he spat, shaking his brother with his free hand. "Do _you_ want to tell me what happened?" he asked his brother, who looked at him through barely open eyes before shaking off his arm and rolling over with a groan. Jackson looked up at Ben, who was watching him with an amused grin. "Nope- he doesn't want to say, either."

"You just hate it when you don't get your way, don't you?" Ben observed, twisting the knife.

Jackson shook his head. "No," he replied sharply. "I hate it when people like you get on my case for being 'cold' and 'heartless' and all that shit, and when I do care, I'm suddenly the bad guy for actually wanting to know what's going on. _That's_ what I really hate." He pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated. There was no denying it- the stress was definitely getting to him.

But now he started, and he couldn't really stop. "There's something going on, and all I'm getting is 'later' and 'it's not my place' or in his case, just noise. But everyone else seems to know." He shook his head at how absolutely idiotic he sounded, shifting to allow Lisa to lie on the bed. He had to get out of there before he made even more of a jackass of himself.

"So you can wait for him to wake up and you three can keep planning whatever it is that you've got going on. Just let me know when I'm allowed to be let in on it, alright?" he snapped, getting to his feet. He headed out of the room, catching the door at the last minute to keep it from slamming shut.

Within seconds, Ben followed him out into the hallway. "Are you seriously getting all pissed off that we went behind your back?" he snapped softly, obviously trying to avoid catching the attention of the other guests in their room. "What exactly did you expect?"

Jackson whirled around to face him, running a hand through his hair. "No- I get why you did it. I know I fucked that up, alright? This isn't about the plan- it's about the fact that something's wrong with Lisa, and instead of telling me, she went to _you_." He turned away again, embarrassed. "And Caleb- I don't even know..." he trailed off, at a loss for a coherent string of words. He started walking again, but was pulled back by Ben's hand on his arm.

"Get ahold of yourself," the other man insisted, "What the hell has gotten into you?" Jackson yanked his arm away, laughing bitterly.

"Out of all the people I'd open up to," he spat, "you are very low on my list." He just wanted to be left alone.

Ben crossed his arms, not taking the bait. "And the only one you've got right now, aren't I?" he reminded him. Jackson shook his head, heading down the hallway again. He stopped when he realized that Ben was right.

"Honestly?" he began after a few moments, his back still to the other man. "I don't know what to do." He ran a hand through his hair again, sighing. "I just keep screwing up with both of them...whatever I do, it's wrong." He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. He felt like the right words were just barely out of his reach, like the lyrics to a forgotten song. "Just...forget it. It's just stress." He waved his free hand dismissively.

"It's not," Ben replied, leaning against the wall. He sighed in aggravation. "Alright, Lisa wanted to wait to talk to Caleb, but..." He grabbed Jackson's arm, walking down the hallway. "Not here." Jackson resisted the urge to pull away. On one hand, he knew that Ben was finally going to tell him, but on the other hand, he wished they could pretend that his outburst had never happened.

The two men walked into Jackson's room, and Ben poured two glasses of whiskey, handing one to Jackson. He dropped into one of the chairs, sighing heavily. Jackson paced around the room slowly, watching the taller man. Neither of them drank. Ben stared at his glass, gently swirling the dark honey liquid.

"Listen..." Jackson began, setting the glass on the table. It was ridiculous, but he had a strong urge to change the subject. He did hate that they were refusing to talk to him, but it felt wrong to drag it out of Ben. Even though Ben was obviously going to take Jackson's side over Lisa's, Jackson felt like he should take hers over...his own? If she wanted to talk to him, he should let her do it in her own way. Not to mention that Ben had obviously promised to keep it to himself, and Jackson wanted to respect that as well.

"Jamie's bringing the team to Dallas to help with Marie," he quickly blurted out. "Probably won't be necessary, but in case..." He didn't finish the sentence. The rest of his team was mostly a contingency, in case some of them didn't make it through the night.

Ben raised his eyebrows, but didn't comment on the abrupt topic switch. "What did you tell her?" he asked, and Jackson could see him fighting to show casual interest. He felt a slight twinge of guilt for playing with his friend's sore spot, but it was effective, and relevant.

"I summed it up," he replied, sitting in a nearby chair. "But the thing is, we don't really have a plan."

Ben scoffed, staring at his glass. "We go in and shoot her," he replied flatly. "How's that?" He eyed Jackson, who finally took a drink of his whiskey. "You're kind of freaking me out," he finally admitted. Jackson raised a skeptical eyebrow, but said nothing. _This_ was new. "You're just kind of losing it," Ben continued, drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair.

Jackson laughed dryly. "Astute," he remarked, setting his glass down on a nearby table. He unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside- he really hated wearing the same clothes two days in a row.

"I'm not kidding," he heard Ben reply, and he shrugged.

"Neither am I," he replied. He was well aware of the fact that he was losing his composure more and more often, and that for the first time since he could remember, he was usually unsure of which direction he wanted to take. It wasn't like him. "Not sure where you're going with this, though," he continued, walking into the bathroom. "I'm a shit human being, remember? You should like this new, improved model, complete with real emotions and everything." He quickly began brushing his teeth.

"I liked the old version," Ben informed him, appearing in the doorway. Jackson exhaled sharply, making eye contact with him through the mirror. "You're all over the place now, and quite honestly, I'm not really comfortable following you anymore." He leaned against the bathroom counter, looking down at Jackson, who stared at the sink. "The old version put his neck out on the line and trusted that we would have his back," he continued, gesturing wildly. "But I don't even know this guy, the one who brings trainees here planning for them to get killed. I didn't know you liked using body shields."

Jackson rinsed out his mouth and dropped his weight into his forearms. "I'm just being practical," he insisted hollowly. It seemed inevitable that someone was going to die, and the bottom line was that the people being sent just weren't as valuable.

Ben shook his head sadly, crossing his arms. "With all due respect, Sir," he replied, without any trace of condescension, "you're not thinking it through. I know I'm only a low level, but I think we can do it without getting them killed."

Jackson rubbed the back of his neck, standing upright. Ben's formality had flipped a switch inside him- he finally felt like he was on a job again instead of tangled in a complete clusterfuck. He stared at the other man, waiting for him to continue.

"Well, they'll have maybe two men outside the room, right?" Ben asked, sitting on the counter. Jackson sat on the edge of the bathtub and nodded. "That's standard. And you told me they're prepared for us, so they'll have a handful of men inside. Seven or eight at most, plus Keefe." Jackson nodded again. He knew all this- the problem was getting past the two men without alerting those inside the room.

"So I had Jeff work out a deal with his ammo guy, and he silenced a handful of Colts in exchange for Caleb and me making him a box of those flint-tipped bullets. So if we can get the jump on the guys on the outside, we can get into the room with their key."

Jackson nodded, surprised. That could actually work. Ben smiled grimly. "That's how easy it would be to avoid using cannon fodder," he concluded softly, "And _that's_ part of why you're freaking me out...you should have figured that one out without my help."

Jackson crossed his arms over his chest, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his thighs. He nodded, drumming his thumb nervously on his bicep. He should have been able to figure that out- it was so simple. Maybe too simple.

"And the rest of it is that even if you couldn't figure it out on your own," Ben continued, lightly kicking the drawers with one heel, "that's what we're here for. But you pushed us out. That's not like you at all, really. Not when it comes to the job."

Jackson shook his head. Ben was wrong there. "It's been like that for a while," he admitted, "years." He was finding it easier than he had expected to open up to Ben, similar to the experience he had had with Jamie.

"Since you became manager," Ben finished, and Jackson nodded yet again. He had never wanted to be manager, but after that incident in Iraq left him with a "bad" hand- it wasn't that bad, really- Marie had given him few options. It had been either that, leave the agency, or become a cleaner or support- he wasn't allowed to continue being just a member of the team anymore. She had been the only example of a manager he had really experienced, and he had found himself trying to use her methods, leading by orders instead of collaboration like he used to when he was her second.

"So that leads to another issue," Ben began again, and Jackson looked up at him. "Who's going to take her place as director?" Jackson scoffed. He wasn't even a great manager- becoming a director wasn't something he was prepared to do.

"You?" he replied, and Ben laughed loudly. Jackson shrugged. It _was_ a pretty bad idea. Ben was great where he was- he was an excellent assassin, and now Jackson was remembering how good he was at "completing" the team by supporting the leader rather than leading himself. "It might be a moot point," he reminded the other man.

The chances were pretty good that by staging this coup, Jackson and his teammates would be condemned by the agency- things just weren't done like this, but it wasn't like they could follow the hints of due process that the agency did have. The only real chance they had at following through with the assassination without becoming exiled or killed would be if they had CIA backing, and Jackson couldn't see how _that_ would happen.

"Probably," Ben replied, jumping to the ground and stepping aside so Jackson could apply deodorant. He quickly exited the bathroom. Jackson closed his eyes and sighed, opening them again to stare at his own reflection. The entire situation with Marie went against everything he was comfortable with. She had taken in both him and Caleb in her own way when their uncle was killed, and she had been a good boss for the most part, at least to him.

She had had it out for Ben from almost the start, and it was absolutely ridiculous. So what if he had spurned her? What kind of reason was that to hate someone? Jackson knew that he had too much pride, but even _he_ couldn't imagine being that hard up. She could pretend that she was ordering the hit because of his mafia ties or his refusal to kill Lisa- which was something Jackson really didn't want to think about- but she had been looking for a reason to be rid of him for years. He hated these grudges, and knew that there was no way to convince her to step down, but the idea still rubbed him the wrong way.

Jackson's relationship with Marie had earned him the title "Golden Boy" from other agents, and he knew that he deserved it- she was too quick to forget his mistakes sometimes, but it definitely wasn't mutual. He had never tried to kiss ass or manipulate his way into his position.

Jackson snapped his attention to the door when Ben cleared his throat. The other man stood in the doorway with a fresh set of clothes, which he set on the counter. "Are you okay to go with us tonight?" Ben asked firmly, and Jackson knew that he was still treating the situation as just another business matter.

He nodded, stripping down. "I'll bring Lisa up on the elevator," he replied, quickly changing into the new clothes. "We'll pretend to be some drunk couple or something...they won't be so quick to shoot if she's there. Hopefully they won't recognize her, but she's our best bet as a distraction." He buttoned up his shirt and turned to face Ben. "You and Caleb wait in the stairwell and come up behind them." He ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it, and glanced over Ben, hoping that answered his question.

Ben nodded, handing him a belt. "Sounds good," he confirmed. The two men walked out onto the balcony and lit their cigarettes. A few moments passed in silence while they stared out at the ocean. As far as Jackson was concerned, it was do-or-die time. He actually _had_ to get it together now, and truly felt that he could when it came down to it.

"Something's been bothering me about this," Ben began, and Jackson turned his head to look at him. "Are we sure Keefe's really here? I mean, I know you said your guy told you they're waiting for us, but would Keefe really put himself at risk like that?"

Jackson nodded. He had considered this already. "Keefe likes to think of himself as a 'big man'- if he hides when we come for him, he's a chickenshit. He'll double up on security, but I'm almost positive he'll be there. But..." he paused to take a drag. "...I'm also pretty sure they're onto Jonathan. We shouldn't know he's expecting us, unless he wants us to know."

Ben nodded. "One of the risks of informing," he replied callously, and Jackson agreed. He wasn't going to risk the mission to warn the insider. There was also a chance that Keefe was just being generous with whom he told because he knew that someone was an informant. Of course there was a chance that it could be a trap- there was _always_ that chance, but they had no choice but to take the information as valid.

"It's a shit plan," he admitted. "We're banking on the idea that Keefe is a damn idiot who wants to play cowboy."

Ben groaned, taking a long drag. "We're all going to get killed, aren't we?" he asked lightly.

"Probably," Jackson replied flatly. It wasn't the first time they were heading into a questionable situation, so he wasn't any more worried than usual now that he would have Ben and Caleb with him instead of rookies. And if they didn't kill Keefe that night, there would always be more chances, and Jamie was taking care of a good portion of the conspirators on the Georgian side. Marie just wanted it done as soon as possible- she wanted her monkeys to dance, and so they did.

The two men fell silent again. Eventually, Jackson opened his mouth to explain that he was going to send away the trainees after they had booked their rooms- he still wanted to use their room keys to avoid leaving a trail- but Ben spoke first. "We might not make it through all this," he noted, and Jackson remained silent, taking a drag of his cigarette. That was always a possibility, but it seemed more likely than normal between the Keefe business and then the fall-out from what they were going to do with Marie.

"I know we have our issues," the other man continued, "but..." Jackson furrowed his eyebrows and glanced sidelong at him. He resisted the urge to tell Ben to stop talking before he could even start getting all sentimental. He wasn't sure he could really handle it. "Don't let this whole thing with Lisa get to you," Ben said quickly, changing the subject.

Jackson shrugged, relieved at the topic change. "There's nothing I can do about it anymore," he insisted. "I'm not leaving the agency, so that's that. I'll be fine."

Ben shook his head. "Oh, that's over," he explained. "Caleb and I talked her out of her ultimatum...well, mostly Caleb, but I guess I helped." Jackson choked on his smoke, wincing as he turned to face Ben.

"You did _what_?" he managed. "Why?" Out of all the people to do something like that, Caleb and Ben were some of the least likely, in his mind. Caleb was unlikely for obvious reasons, but Ben...he had assumed that he would use the opportunity to finally get revenge for what Jackson had done to him.

Ben took a drag. "It wasn't that hard," he informed him. "I don't think she was that set on it from the start, really." He laughed at the stunned expression on Jackson's face. "I got over that years ago," he explained. "It was fucked up, but you were right...it wouldn't have been a good idea."

Jackson felt his jaw lightly drop. Not long after Caleb had left the agency, Jamie had realized that she was pregnant with Ben's kid. Ben had been excited- not only did he actually want kids, he already had a daughter back in Brooklyn who he hadn't seen since she was a toddler because of his involvement in the agency. He had seen it as a second chance to be a good parent, but Jamie wasn't taking it as well. She knew that she would have to quit the agency- they couldn't very well bring an infant on a job or raise him or her in a cramped apartment full of assassins- and Ben would likely have to as well.

She had confided in Jackson, and explained her doubts. She wasn't sure she was ready for a baby, and definitely wasn't ready to give up her job. Jackson had never _convinced_ Jamie to get the abortion, but he definitely had helped confirm her already-growing idea that it was the right thing to do. He had even gone with her to the clinic- Ben had refused.

That was it for their relationship, of course. They could hardly _look_ at each other without being reminded of what they had lost. Jamie hadn't regretted her choice, but she had still hated doing it and of course hated even more how much it had hurt Ben. Soon after, Jackson had been promoted to manager, and sent Ben to Robert's team.

He would have preferred to make Ben his second, but knew that Robert needed him more. In fact, Jackson had been hoping that Marie would have gotten over her issues and promoted Ben to manager of that team, but that hadn't happened. It did seem to make Robert a better manager though, at least for a while, so Jackson had been right in that sense, but he still hated how it had all gone down. None of them had really talked about it since then- he wasn't even sure Caleb knew.

"You thought I was going to convince her to walk away, didn't you?" Ben asked, reading his mind. Jackson nodded slowly, now embarrassed. "Come on, man- you think I'd do that to you? You really think I don't get that you were trying to help?" He shook his head. "Well, I get it, alright?"

"Alright," Jackson replied softly, staring at the embers of his cigarette as though they were the most fascinating thing he had seen. This had to be the most emotionally intense week he had ever had. "For what it's worth," he began, but Ben waved his hand.

"Don't," he interrupted. "We owe a lot to you, actually," he continued awkwardly. Jackson shifted uncomfortably, shaking his head. "I'm _serious_," Ben insisted, frowning. "You totally took care of me and Cal in college...Hell, all of us, really. But, listen, I know I give you lots of shit for...well, everything..." He kicked the balcony floor with his shoe. "...but you were like our center or something."

Jackson stepped back from the balcony. This was just too much for him, and he needed to get away from it. Ben grabbed his arm. "Just let me say this," he said, irritated. "Then we can pretend it never happened, alright?" Jackson sighed heavily, rolling his neck.

"Fine," he muttered, leaning against the balcony again. "Just...don't overdo it."

Ben nodded, grinning slightly. "Deal," he replied, taking a drag. "What I'm trying to say is that...you know how I was when we met." Jackson nodded. When they had first began living together in the dorm at NYU, Ben had been quite the asshole- angry, rude, and anti-social. But he and Caleb had bonded relatively quickly, and he had calmed down eventually. "And you know I think of Cal like he's my brother from another mother, but...that goes for you, too. I feel like I just sort of fit between you two...you guys are like the family I don't have, really."

Jackson sighed, staring up at the sky. "You overdid it," he teased half-heartedly. "But..." He sighed audibly- part of him still wanted to be as far away from this conversation as possible. There was an odd comfort of the familiar in being told that he was screwing up, especially from Ben. He didn't know how to take this new honesty. "I think Caleb's in the middle." That was as close as he could come to verbally admitting that he felt the same way, but Ben seemed to understand.

"Should we hug now?" he asked, grinning. Jackson scoffed, shaking his head. He could always count on Ben to ruin any heavy moment with that mouth, but this time he was actually grateful. In a way, it felt good to hear those words, but at the same time, it put more pressure on him. It was hard to disappoint a person who already had low expectations...

"No," he replied firmly, turning away from Ben and taking another drag. He half-rolled his eyes in irritation as Ben clamped onto him from behind, squeezing tightly. He shook his head in amusement, shrugging off the other man. He ran a hand through his hair again. The air between them had changed, and Jackson wasn't sure what he should say next.

"Thanks for...helping with Lisa last night," he finally said, sticking to the relatively safer topic, resting his forearms on the railing. He wished that he could have gone with them the night before, but he didn't really have a place there. "Even if it didn't go well."

Ben scoffed. "She's actually not as bad as I thought," he admitted, mirroring Jackson. "I thought she was going to fall to pieces or something, but..." He hesitated. "...she held it together. And anyway," he continued quickly, "I wouldn't thank me. I haven't exactly been nice to her."

Jackson shrugged. "She isn't exactly easy to be nice to sometimes," he replied bluntly. And it was the truth. He could vouch for how frustrating she was at times. In a way, it was a relief to know that Lisa had kept her composure, but on the other hand, it confirmed that Caleb was the problem.

"Oh, I did propose to her, but she turned me down," Ben continued, bringing levity back into the discussion again. "I don't think I'll ever recover, really."

"She already got married once this week," Jackson reminded him, fighting a grin. He couldn't even begin to imagine how the "proposal" had gone.

"Lucky bastard," the other man muttered, elbowing Jackson in a way that let him know that he wasn't really talking about Caleb. "Smart, sexy, and she knows how to use a gun." He winked at Jackson, who couldn't resist feeling slightly smug. Lisa was definitely all of those things, and more. He _was_ lucky. He knew that Ben was referring to what Lisa had done the last time they had sex, but he couldn't even pretend to feel self-conscious- it had been too mind-blowing, and quite frankly, Ben _should_ be jealous.

"She's tough, too. She just needs to..._I _need to let her do it," Jackson replied softly, taking a drag. Except for brief, tense moments back in Minnesota and the quick exchange with Marie, he hadn't really talked about her with anyone else unless he was discussing the next move with Caleb. Even then, he hadn't really just _talked_ about her. He felt somewhat awkward, but found that he actually liked it.

He had found himself missing her in the last two days since she had left Jeff's house- with every that had been happening, their paths had crossed too rarely. Yet another thing that had been his fault, but it didn't do any good to brood about it...he just had to make it up to her somehow. He stubbed out the cigarette. "She'll make it through this just fine," he added, mostly to himself.

"You _both_ will if you can just get over your issues," Ben replied frankly, and Jackson shrugged. He wanted to believe that things between him and Lisa would last, but he had seen too much evidence to the contrary. It occurred to him that he had never seen a lasting relationship, or one that didn't end miserably, and he was also painfully aware that he was just in the wrong business for such things. Even if they did find a way to make it work, either he or Lisa or both of them wouldn't be able to reconcile their differences after a while. It was inevitable.

But Jackson had come across worse odds at more than one point in his life, and even when he tried, giving up just didn't suit him. He couldn't even imagine trying to push her away anymore. Now it was just a matter of not doing so unintentionally.

"Oh," Ben began again, "Now that I've done the sentimental thing and buttered you up, can I borrow ten grand?" Jackson chuckled, shaking his head slightly. Apparently it had been too much for the other man, too. "Nik said she'll come here and help with the security aspect, but she wants the money first...as in, before she'll even fly out. And I really don't have a way of getting it to her."

Jackson lit another cigarette and shot Ben an incredulous look. He had just thought to ask now? "Nik...? As in..." Ben nodded. Jackson raised his eyebrows in surprise. Nikita was the mother of Ben's daughter. She was also married to a member of Odessa, which Ben didn't really have the best of relationships anymore. He shrugged it off, assuming that Ben knew what he was doing.

"She's pretty cheap," he observed. Normally, it would seem like a lot of money, but really wasn't much to give someone putting their life on the line.

"I know," Ben replied. "But since she's kind of being a bitch about needing it in cash up front and all that, I decided not to bother talking her up."

Jackson nodded. It definitely wasn't the way things were normally done. He pulled out his phone, dialing Trudi's number. He told her to withdraw the money from his accounts, knowing that she would know to do it at two different banks to avoid IRS notification. He relayed the address Ben gave him, rolling his eyes when she expressed disdain for the idea of going to "the ghetto".

"Thanks," Ben said as he hung up. "I'll pay you back." Jackson shook his head.

"You're not getting paid for helping with Keefe," he reminded the other man. "So really, I owe you." Ben shrugged, accepting Jackson's rejection. "You know...after this is over, you could go back to New York," Jackson pointed out after a few minutes.

Ben shook his head. "I could go live there," he agreed, "but I can't really go back." He stubbed out his cigarette, taking Jackson's. "Nik thinks Sasha's old enough to find out about me, but I think that means she's old enough to resent being lied to like that."

Jackson frowned, but he had to agree. The sad reality was that it was nearly impossible to have a family and be at their level in the agency. Cleaners, support, couriers- they weren't at risk and could lead normal lives. Even Jackson probably could have a family if he wanted since he wasn't "on the job" as often, but someone at Ben's level was away from home too often and was at too much a risk of being killed or caught to have responsibilities like that.

"She's doing fine without me anyway," Ben continued dully, passing the cigarette back to Jackson. "She's...turning into a real beauty already, and she's doing well in school." He pressed his palms hard against his temples and groaned. "I really don't want to talk about it anymore," he said, his voice tight.

Jackson nodded, remaining silent. He hated seeing his friend like this. Being a spectator over the years to Ben's family problems only served to reinforce his aversion to having kids, not that he wanted to anyway. He didn't have his own life in order, or at least not an order that left room for being responsible for a child- how could he ever be a good parent? Plus, there was always that fear of turning into his own father.

He knew that Ben, like him, had the option of walking out at any point. But for people like them, it wasn't really possible. Just like Jackson couldn't imagine sitting back and watching the James Rippners of the world hurt people, Ben had his personal reasons for being so attached to the job. They all did. A person didn't just wake up and decide to dedicate their lives to such a horrible profession. They were all damaged.

* * *

**The title of this chapter came from Depeche Mode's "Wrong"- a _fabulous _song that was brought back to my attention by the lovely AmelyShine. She thinks it's one of the definitive Jackson songs, and I have to completely agree. DEFINITELY check it out, or at least the lyrics.**

**R&R! Reviewers _might _wake up Christmas morning to find Ben in their living room. And he _might _bring board games. :D**


	34. Somebody That I Used to Know

**Happy 2013! This is how I spend _my _holidays...with my boys and girl. So, this is the longish-awaited chapter, in which Jackson finds out and Caleb loses his good guy title once and for all. The "Psychic Reader" award goes to Miss Artemis, who totally called this one. And the "Love You" award goes to Eva for introducing me to the song "Power and Control" by Marina and the Diamonds. Check it out- Lisa _finally _gets an anthem!**

**BW4eva- **Aw, I would never kill off Caleb with something as sad as literally drinking himself to death. :)

**ThisIsChikaOnFFdotNet- **Thanks! I _still _haven't decided what kind of ending Lisa and Jackson are going to get, let alone my OCs. But yes, I want a happy ending for my Ben. They all need one, really.

**Eva- **Ben is definitely integral to the twins. And yes, things are about to get even more intense.

**KnoKnayme- **Glad you liked it! :) He's going to recede into the background for a while though.

**MademoiselleGF- **I assume you meant Marie, who wants Lisa dead because she thinks Lisa will take Jackson from the agency. She has some control issues- if her people aren't doing exactly what she wants them to be doing, she likes to "take care of it".

I know it was a bit out of left field. I put it in there for a few reasons- one, it shows how limited their world is that Ben actually had to bring in a very unlikely associate. Two, it explained more Jackson's hesitation and aversion to things like family, because he's seen Ben's issues with kids and whatnot. Three, it was another example of how they just throw around money like 'whatever'. But yeah, I knew it wasn't going to be the most popular chapter.

Thank you SO much for that banner. I was touching up the chapter with my beta when I noticed the PM, and she can attest that I actually squealed and got all :D about it. Sucks that you're sick, though- feel better!

And I do appreciate how brutally honest you are about my chapters. It really helps me think about content and characterization.

**Miss Artemis-** First of all, I already have a soft spot for you because my first original character in the first story I ever wrote was named Artemis. Alright, here's the thing with Lisa and her whole "savior complex/wanting to 'fix' Jackson" thing. Yes, she was more tolerant of it in the beginning, but it didn't really affect her as much then. Her doubts about Jackson's involvement in the agency came at a critical turning point for them- when she realized that she loves him (and vice versa). You have to remember that she has come around at one of the worst possible times in the agency- betrayal and backstabbing _everywhere_. Caleb's little talk with her about how that sort of thing is very rare did have an impact, and so did her whole "new life" thing. She's done with it for good (as far as I have planned), but that's why it was there.

Oh, and the second thing you totally called- chapter 34 will be mostly Jackson and Lisa _really _talking about everything that's happening.

**PirateGyrl- **Well, he conveniently spent Xmas with me. You wouldn't really want to play games with him- Jackson would tell you that he cheats. And I totally feel you with the malls sucking thing- I had a seasonal job at a See's kiosk for the last two months, and I wanted to flip a cash register by Christmas Eve.

**Hpfan1987- **Thanks! Hope you continue to enjoy! :)

**In the words of PirateGyrl, the shit has hit the fan:**

* * *

**Chapter 33: Somebody That I Used to Know**

Jackson followed Ben into his hotel room, yawning widely. The two of them had decided that sentimentality made them hungry and ended up ordering room service back in Jackson's room. He had figured that since Caleb was just sleeping when they had left, he was okay on his own for a while longer.

He almost ran right into Ben as the other man hesitated in the doorway. Pushing past, he saw what had made Ben stop- or more correctly, _didn't_ see it. Caleb wasn't in the bed. Lisa was alone, tangled in the mess of blankets. He turned toward the balcony and saw his brother sitting on the concrete floor. Jackson walked toward him, furrowing his eyebrows.

Caleb sat on the floor, leaning against the glass panel next to the sliding door. He was turned away from the balcony door, a cigarette in one hand, and a Colt in the other. He gripped the gun by the barrel and trigger guard, resting it against his forehead. Jackson knelt by his brother, quickly noting that the gun was on safe before gripping it by the end of the barrel. He pried the Colt from Caleb's hand despite how tightly the other man held onto it, frowning as his brother didn't even look at him.

Jackson glanced up at Ben, who was handing him a bottle of water. He passed it off to Caleb, who set it down next to him. "Just drink it," he murmured, sitting next to his brother. Caleb sighed, unscrewing the lid and taking a long drink. He passed the cigarette to Jackson, who just held onto it. He watched his younger brother, not sure how to begin.

The three men were silent for several minutes before Jackson heard Ben walk back into the hotel room, closing the balcony door behind him. Jackson cleared his throat, but still no words came to him.

"Would you really have shot her if I wasn't there?" Caleb asked quietly. Jackson frowned, taking a drag. There were a few 'hers' Caleb could be referring to, but he was pretty sure he knew who he was talking about. He had to give Caleb points for an unexpected opening, but he didn't know what their mother had to do with anything. But if this was what Caleb wanted to talk about, Jackson thought he should do his best to accommodate him.

"I meant to," he replied uncomfortably, staring at the ocean. "Not sure if I would have, though." The topic had been brought up many times in the last few days, and often, it was by Caleb. He obviously wanted to finally talk about it, but Jackson just wasn't sure why it suddenly mattered. Was Caleb actually drawing some parallel between Cheryl and Cathy?

"She looked so scared," Caleb continued, taking another drink, "and you didn't give a shit." Jackson took a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

"I was there," he replied flatly, rocking the gun on its trigger guard.

"She's our _mom_," Caleb hissed. "And you-"

"No, she _wasn't_," Jackson snapped. "Our mom had a fucking spine. She would have fought back or just left." Caleb frowned, getting to his feet.

"I saw her," he admitted, leaning back against the railing as he looked down at Jackson. "When I tried to shoot Cheryl...I just..." He took a deep breath, his voice breaking. "...saw her." Jackson sat in stunned silence, tapping the Colt against his temple. There were no words. He couldn't very well apologize and there was nothing he could do to take it back, even if he actually regretted his actions.

"I couldn't do it," Caleb continued, speaking so softly that Jackson had to strain to hear him, and dropped his face in his hands. "Lisa...Lisa did it. She shot her." Jackson's jaw dropped and he turned his head to look back through the window. He clenched his jaw as he made eye contact with the brunette sitting next to Ben- he must have woken her. Lisa furrowed her eyebrows, probably trying to read him.

Jackson turned back to Caleb, sucking in his lips. He made Lisa give someone a goddamn _contact_ shot? He quickly buried his outrage- Caleb was his _brother_...it wasn't right to come down on him like that. And he would have to have a good reason to falter like that. Jackson squeezed his eyes shut to reign it in, and then opened them again. "Are you alright now?" he finally asked, fighting to keep his voice steady.

Caleb laughed dryly. "Oh come on," he challenged. "Don't pretend that you aren't pissed about it. Go ahead- tell me how much I failed."

Jackson shook his head. "It was to be expected," he insisted, pushing himself to his feet. Caleb was right of course, but Jackson was doing his best to remind himself of the circumstances instead of the results.

"Jesus Christ," Caleb snapped, tightly gripping the rails. "Fucking _tell_ me. I was supposed to do a job and I fucked it up right?"

"It wasn't your job," Jackson murmured, leaning against the adjacent railing and crushing the cigarette beneath his shoe. "I told her I was going to help, and I should have done it. You shouldn't have been anywhere near it." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You shouldn't have been anywhere near _any_ of this." He turned his head to look at his brother, who just clenched his jaw. "I know it's years too late, but...I know I fucked up. I shouldn't have-"

"Save it," Caleb snapped. "I'm not some goddamn kid you need to take care of." Jackson clenched his free hand into a fist, taken aback.

"But it's my fault you're-"

"I _hit_ her," Caleb spat, slamming his palms on the railing and setting his jaw in defiance, as though he were daring Jackson to continue his apology. Jackson's eyes narrowed angrily, his stomach sinking.

"Cheryl?" he asked, praying that he was right and knowing that he wasn't. He bowed his head, setting his jaw and gritting his teeth. He knew Caleb was shaking his head without even looking at him. Every thought was pulled from his head, replaced by a piercing silence. It wasn't until his lungs started to burn that he realized that he wasn't even breathing.

"I kissed her, too," Caleb continued, his tone almost taunting. "Right up against the door while she tried to fight me off. I was going to-"

Jackson launched at his brother with a raw cry, grabbing Caleb by the hair, and yanked his head back, almost snapping his neck. He pressed the gun to Caleb's throat, breathing heavily. He didn't need it spelled out for him. His own _brother_...she must have been so scared, and he just...Jackson bit down on his lip hard enough to draw blood, forcing himself to stare into his brother's eyes, trying to shut out the haunting imagery.

"I should fucking _kill_ you," he hissed, releasing the safety catch on the Colt. Caleb's eyes showed no fear; only defiance. Jackson's breaths became more ragged as the decision waged a war in his head. He knew he was right- anyone else wouldn't have lived long enough for him to even utter a threat. But it was _Caleb_. He became suddenly aware of muffled yelling behind him, and snapped his head and shoulders around to see Lisa struggling to get to the glass doors, and Ben holding tightly to her waist. Jackson tightened his grip on Caleb- he definitely did _not_ need to see Lisa being restrained.

He gave Caleb one more hard push against the railing and stepped from him, rapping on the glass with his knuckles. Both turned their attention to him, and Jackson silently gestured for them to come outside. He needed to hear that Caleb was lying to him. There was no way this could be real.

Lisa hurried out first and approached Jackson, her hand out. "Give me the gun," she pleaded, and Jackson saw the tears in her eyes. "You don't want to do this." Jackson smiled grimly and held the gun out, but quickly snaked out his other hand and grabbed her wrist, yanking her closer to him.

"Do you want to try explaining again?" he asked bitterly, rubbing at the foundation on her cheek with the pad of his thumb, exposing some of the bruising. Lisa winced and pulled away from his touch, obviously hurt by the pressure he applied. He barely glanced over as Ben voiced his opposition to how rough he was being with her before giving Lisa his complete attention again. He hadn't meant to hurt her...but _why_ did she lie to him?

"Give me the gun," she repeated calmly, grabbing his wrist with her free hand. "Now." Jackson locked eyes with her and easily saw fear behind her forced calm. No...not fear. Concern? He sighed deeply, setting the gun back on safe and thrusting it into her hand as she released his wrist. Of course he didn't want to shoot his own brother.

He looked back at Caleb, who had his arms crossed. He didn't look ashamed- just angry. "It's not your job to protect me," his brother explained coldly, "and I don't fucking _want_ you to anymore." Jackson hardly recognized the man in front of him- he was so cold.

Jackson laughed bitterly. If Caleb wanted to press all of his hot buttons...two could play at that game. "Is that so?" he spat. "Alright- I have some news. Your wife?" He smiled humorlessly. "She..." He trailed off, shaking his head. He couldn't do it- he just couldn't intentionally hurt Caleb, no matter how much he wanted to. "...cheated on you," he finished, knowing that if he stopped talking, Caleb would demand to know what he had been about to say and that what he did tell was a big enough revelation that it wouldn't look like he had held back.

"_Jesus_, Jack!" Ben admonished, but Caleb flung his hand in the air to cut him off.

"Old news," he replied hollowly. "Robert told me...in so many words."

Jackson snapped his attention to Ben. "Jesus, _Jack_?" he repeated, ignoring Caleb's response. "You know what he did." He gestured at Caleb, who was also glaring at Ben. "And you heard him- he doesn't want me taking care of him anymore. Why should I keep his wife's dirty little secrets?" _Because he's your brother._

"Don't fucking defend me, you _backstabber_," Caleb snapped at Ben, overlapping with Jackson's accusations.

Ben turned to face Caleb, a mix of shock and anger on his face. "How exactly am_ I_-"

"You couldn't find any time to tell me what she was doing?" Caleb demanded, advancing Ben. "Like 'Oh hey, Cal- your wife is part of the agency and she's fucking _Robert_. How have you been?'" Ben shoved him away roughly.

"One, I had no idea she was fucking him," he snapped. "Two, I assumed you _knew_. It's pretty hard to hide that shit. Or did you think she was taking 'business trips'? Oh- and exactly _when_ was I supposed to tell you?" He glared at Caleb accusingly. "Like the times I tried to call after you left and you totally ignored my calls? One of those times?"

Jackson felt the grip on his wrist tighten and looked over at Lisa, who was obviously worried. "You need to stop this," she whispered, releasing his wrist to grab his hand instead. "Everyone's just angry, and it's not helping anything." He turned his attention back to Caleb and Ben, knowing that she was right, and stepped between the two men.

"Yes, I wanted to kill her," he stated firmly, "and yes, I killed Dad. But you know what? You don't get to bring it up ten goddamn years later and use it as an excuse for hurting Lisa like that." Caleb started to respond, but Jackson talked right over him. "You want to send me on a guilt trip and make me out to be the bad guy for trying to take care of you- be my guest. But _not_ her- she has _nothing_ to do with you and me."

He stepped closer to Caleb, dangerously close to the other man. "You're pissed about it? Fine- take it out on _me_ and make it a fair fight." He pulled from Lisa's grip and yanked the gun from her hand, firmly pressing the barrel into Caleb's chest. "But if you _ever_ lay a hand on her again, I _will_ kill you," he threatened, his voice barely above a whisper. It was the only volume he could handle at the moment. "No hesitation, no fucking games...I will _kill_ you." He handed the gun back to Lisa. Caleb just nodded, and Jackson noted again how miserable he looked. "Get some more rest," he said through clenched teeth. "We'll finish this little..._discussion_...later."

He slipped his hand into Lisa's again, squeezing it tightly. _Get me out of here_, he silently pleaded. He didn't want to look at Caleb anymore, precisely because he had meant what he said. He couldn't believe it had come to this. Lisa pulled his hand softly, taking a few steps toward the door. Jackson turned from Ben and Caleb and followed her back into the room.

"I would have killed her." Jackson stopped in his tracks, but didn't turn around. Again, there were many 'hers' that Caleb could be referring to, but this time, he couldn't be sure. Cheryl didn't make sense because she was already dead and Caleb hadn't taken the final shot. Lisa...well, he had better not be talking about _her_.

"Killed who?" he asked tensely, knowing that he was probably crushing poor Lisa's hand by this point. He didn't want to guess this time. He heard Caleb walk toward him and turned around, instinctively guiding Lisa behind him.

"Mom," Caleb confirmed. "If the gun had been in my hand...I would have shot her." He shook his head. "You couldn't have stopped me."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Jackson asked skeptically. Had his brother developed some kind of amnesia? "You stopped me, remember? 'Killing her won't help anything'...?"

Caleb nodded slowly. "Because I was scared," he admitted softly. "I was freaked out by how much I wanted you to do it." Jackson shook his head, dropping his head again. _This_ was why he hated bringing up the past, among other reasons. Time changes memories and conflicting stories are inevitable. "I _did_," Caleb insisted. "I don't hate you for it...well, I do, but not like that."

Jackson released Lisa's hand and crossed his arms defensively. He didn't trust what he was hearing. "Enlighten me," he replied bitterly. "What's it like then?" He barely noticed Lisa move away from them and stand next to Ben behind Caleb. But when he heard her whisper in Ben's ear and watched the two start to head to the door, he shook his head at them. "No, you can stay," he insisted. He didn't particularly want either of them to be there, but he knew that there would be questions later. It was just easier this way.

Caleb dropped onto the bed, remaining silent. He drummed his fingers on his thighs. Jackson looked down at him, waiting. Oddly, Jamie's words from the previous evening came back to him- just shut up and take it.

"It doesn't make sense," Caleb muttered, burying his face in his hands again. Jackson continued to wait, despite how badly he wanted to tell his brother to just forget it. As angry as he was with Caleb, he hated seeing him so upset. "It's not your fault that I'm here. It never was...I wanted it. You just gave me a good excuse...following you was easy."

Jackson shifted uncomfortably and finally sat next to Caleb. "You hate the killing," he insisted. He wasn't going to let Caleb twist the truth in his misery.

Caleb nodded. "Because I wanted it so much," he admitted, his face still buried. "And I could convince myself that I was there for you, and that I really didn't have a choice, but it just wasn't true. And it's not true now. I...I'll never be normal." He shuddered deeply, and Jackson could hear the tears in his voice as he dropped to a whisper. "I enjoy it so much that...it scares me."

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much," Jackson heard Ben say under his breath, and he shook his head.

"'Methinks' comes last," he corrected, enjoying the tiny distraction. He made eye contact with the other man as he dropped on the other side of Caleb. Jackson could read the amused '_who gives a shit_?' from Ben's lips, and he allowed himself the smallest of smug smiles. He avoided Lisa, knowing that she was probably looking at them both like they were crazy.

"I used you," Caleb continued as though the two men hadn't spoken, his voice tight. Jackson focused his attention on his brother again, the brief light mood shattered. "Oh, I didn't _want_ to be there, not at all- you totally made me, right? Bullshit. And I could...the things I don't like about you...it's not you. It's me. You let me be the good one." Jackson furrowed his eyebrows at Ben. What _exactly_ was he supposed to say to all this? It was hitting him hard that he didn't even know this man. He had always thought he was an expert in defenses, but Caleb had put him to shame.

Jackson cleared his throat. "When you say that you _want_ to kill..." He trailed off awkwardly, unsure of how to put it into the right words.

"I want to watch them suffer," Caleb replied, and Jackson heard the ice creeping into his voice. "I've always been able to rationalize things..."

"And you're good at it," Ben murmured, almost to himself. Caleb nodded.

"It's the only way I know," he replied, turning to look at Ben. "And I'm _not_ lying to myself...I mean it." He turned to look at Jackson, who was starting to get scared himself. This whole thing seemed completely out of their element- should he actually get some kind of therapist? "I do hate the killing," Caleb continued, and laughed dryly, the words starting to fall more rapidly from his mouth.

"See? It sounds so screwed up- and it is- but that's why I left. That's why I couldn't talk to you anymore. That's why I fell in love and married Cheryl. I didn't want to do it anymore. I just wanted- _want_- to be normal. I want to help people, because it's the only way I know to balance how just how much I want to hurt others. And that's why I'm damn good at being a doctor- I just kept reading and pushing myself to learn all the techniques. I know almost everything about how to kill someone, and I thought I could cancel it out...maybe I could figure out how to fix myself."

"Like..." Lisa began, but trailed off. The three men looked up at her, and she shifted her weight uncomfortably. "Like an alcoholic who finds God," she finally finished, kneeling in front of Caleb. "Is that what you're saying?" Jackson frowned as Caleb nodded. Maybe it was a good thing they were there. He had no words, but Lisa and Ben seemed to be on top of things.

"I'm so sorry," Caleb whispered to Lisa, taking one of her hands in his. "I just...Jackson was right. I took it out on you. I thought that when I killed Robert and...whatever that guy's name is that it was just because of the circumstance. I thought that I had finally gotten over that need to kill, but then...with Cheryl, it all came back, and I just lost it. I couldn't...convince myself anymore." He dropped his head, and Lisa leaned forward, softly placing a hand on the back of his neck. Jackson clenched his jaw, unable to take his eyes off of them. He hated how close Caleb was to her right now. How could she forgive him so easily?

"I'm alright now," she insisted, her eyes full of sympathy. "I told you that I knew something was wrong, remember? Don't worry about me."

Jackson tore his gaze away and looked over at Ben, who was watching the two, unimpressed. Was this normal for them? Were they always this...close? "I don't just want to...I mean, I'm not some psychopath," Caleb said louder, pulling from Lisa to look at Jackson again. "I don't want to just mow _everyone_ down or anything."

Jackson nodded, releasing a small sigh of relief. He had actually been worried for a moment that when Caleb said he wanted to kill, he meant indiscriminately. "But you _are_ going back to Minnesota when this is over, right?" he asked carefully. "I mean...you're not saying that you want to come back to the agency...are you?" He doubted he could handle sitting back and letting Caleb go back to what he had been, especially not after this new confession. He felt even more of an urge to keep his brother from it, both for protection and the fact that he didn't feel like he could trust him anymore.

Caleb nodded. "I am," he confirmed. "I'm sorry for everything I've put you through." Jackson pulled back, inhaling sharply. It was immature, but he _really_ hated being apologized to. He just wanted to get back to normal, but everyone was being pulled from their comfort zones and all this reality was blowing up around them. And even worse, it was reality that Jackson had been completely unaware of. First Lisa even giving him a chance, let alone sticking with him, then Ben calling him family, and now this...his entire world had been thrown off its axis, and to call it overwhelming was a severe understatement.

"We're fine," he insisted, but it was a lie. It was unnerving to hear this honesty, but Jackson did understand it in a way. He had had his whole dark period, when he scared himself with how satisfying it felt to watch the life leaving someone who really deserved it. It hadn't lasted for a decade, but he could definitely relate.

Of course he hated hearing that he had been some scapegoat for Caleb's issues. He had been tearing his hair out about the whole thing for so long before attempting to securely bury it deep in his mind after not being able to come up with any solution. But he would get over it. And of course he was angry for what Caleb had done to Lisa...he wasn't so sure he would really get over that. It also unnerved him to see Lisa so...comfortable with Caleb, but he kept reminding himself that he was blowing it out of proportion. Mostly, it just hurt him to see Caleb in such pain and realize that he had completely misinterpreted the situation for years. It hurt him to know that the man next to him was a stranger in so many ways.

Lisa watched Jackson's shoulders sink in defeat, and frowned as he pinched the bridge of his nose, pressing his fingers against his closed eyes. She looked over at Caleb, who just looked beyond miserable as he cradled his chin and jaw in both hands. Ben obviously wanted to be anywhere else but that room. The three men seemed to have gotten as far as they were going to come, and she was pretty sure they all needed some time. She released Caleb and gently placed her hands on Jackson's thighs, barely tilting her head toward the door when he finally made eye contact with her.

Jackson nodded as Lisa pushed herself to her feet. She shot a regretful glance back at Caleb as Jackson stood, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He looked so broken as he stared at her with those haunting eyes, but her place was undeniably with Jackson. She draped her arm across Jackson's back in support as the two walked out of the room. She turned her head against as the door opened and Ben walked out, still looking a bit dazed. He joined them in the elevator, and shook his head.

"I need a fucking drink," he muttered to Jackson after clearing his throat, "then I'll get the trainees." He placed a hand on Jackson's shoulder, but the other man pulled from his touch.

"Just get their keys and send them right back," he reminded Ben, and Lisa looked up at him questioningly. So he wasn't going to use them? She lifted her hand to intertwine her fingers with the hand draped over her shoulder, squeezing to let him know that she was proud of him for not condemning them. A quick squeeze let her know that Jackson understood, even if he didn't look at her.

Ben nodded and looked down at Lisa. "He'll be fine," he assured her confidently. "He got it off his chest...so..." Lisa nodded. She wasn't as worried about Caleb as she was about Jackson. Ben was right- he had hit bottom, had his confession, and there was nowhere to go but up. But Jackson looked like he had the ground yanked from under him, and she could only imagine what was going on his head.

Ben raised his eyebrows one more time. "What a fucking business," he said cryptically as the elevator slowed to a stop on Jackson's floor.

"Yeah," Lisa replied, giving Ben a quick smile before exiting with Jackson. They made their way into his room, where she finally disentangled herself, watching Jackson loosen his tie and shrug off his jacket.

"Don't say...anything," he said, his back to her. "Please." Lisa shook her head, walking to stand in front of him. She wasn't about to pry anything out of him now- she knew better than that. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing tightly against him as she rested her head on his shoulder. Normally, she would be looking for some way to help, but not this time. She knew that there was nothing she could do to fix any of this.

"Should I leave you alone?" she asked softly, unsure. She took a step back to look him in the eye- she wanted to be there, but if he wanted her to leave, she would do so. Jackson shook his head, dropping down onto the bed. Lisa sighed, slipping off her heels. She climbed on the bed and sat behind him, her legs straddling his.

"You can talk if you want," she reminded him, sliding one hand up the back of his neck and through his hair. "I'll listen...but I'm not going to make you." Jackson nodded slightly, leaning into her touch. Lisa softly massaged his scalp, thinking back on the last hour. She definitely hadn't seen Caleb's confession coming- she had never expected anything like that from him. She had assumed he was angrier than he realized about things, but...she just couldn't believe what she had heard.

She bit her lip, remembering how Jackson had held that gun to his brother's neck. She couldn't see his face, but his pure rage was written all over his body. She had actually been terrified that he was going to kill him, but thankfully, Jackson had been able to regain control. The weird part was that she had been worried about Caleb, but more worried that Jackson was going to do something impulsive that he could never forgive himself for.

She sunk against Jackson, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her cheek on his shoulder blade. That was why she had gone a bit overboard in showing Caleb that she wasn't upset. Oh, she was still upset about it, partially because of what he had actually done, but mostly because he had gone and told Jackson the whole thing, and by the expression on his face and Jackson's reaction, he hadn't exactly broken the news carefully. She was fairly sure that she had been right- telling Jackson about the confrontation hadn't helped anything. He was angry at Caleb and she knew that he was angry with her as well for lying to him.

"He made it sound worse than it was," she blurted out, and felt Jackson tense against her. She felt the need to do _some_ damage control. It was _her_ problem to deal with, not his. "It's not like he really _hit_ me...not like when you hit Cheryl. It was more of a panic reaction than anything..." She laughed softly. "I just bruise like a peach." She felt weird playing down the situation, but was comforted by the fact that at least she wasn't lying to him. That was how she saw the situation, and she _did_ bruise pretty easily. And she wanted so badly to lighten the load on Jackson's mind- there were more important things going on.

When Jackson didn't reply, she continued. "And later...I mean, he didn't..._touch_ me or anything. And he stopped himself really quickly." She frowned, still trying to look at the situation objectively. "It wasn't really that big a deal." She sighed, closing her eyes. She was trying, but she knew that she probably sounded exactly like an abused wife making excuses.

"Not that big a deal," Jackson murmured, tipping his head to the side to rest it against hers. "I think you're full of it."

Lisa bit down on her lip. "You know me," she insisted softly. "If it really was that bad, don't you think I would have come running to you? Do you think I could have kept it from you if I was really that upset about it?" She laughed softly, tightening her grip. _Please believe me...please let it go._

Jackson sighed. "Probably not," he conceded, turning to kiss the back of her head. Lisa straightened her posture, resting her chin on his shoulder and turned to look at him. "I trust you," he finally said, giving her a weak smile. Lisa returned his smile the best she could and kissed him softly.

She wanted to tell him about her new decision regarding his job, but didn't know how to start. On one hand, it seemed like the very wrong time to be talking about it, but on the other, she felt like he could definitely use a topic change.

"Caleb and Ben talked to me about the agency," she explained, turning to rest her forehead on his shoulder, "and I think I get it. Well, kind of. I get why it's important to you, even if I don't really get it...if that makes sense. She lifted her head and dropped it softly again, sighing. She was rambling again. "But I think I'm okay with it, and I'm really sor-" She cried out in surprise when Jackson dropped back, pinning her against the bed.

"_Don't_ apologize," he interrupted, the words coming out as a sigh as his head rested on her shoulder. "I don't want to hear anymore apologies or revelations for...ever." Lisa nodded, maneuvering her arm to run her hand through his hair again. She bit back a smart-ass urge to apologize for apologizing.

"Alright," she agreed. "No more apologies. But I do take it back- I don't want you to quit...at least not for me...or for Caleb, or any other reasons other than if you want to." She lifted her neck and turned to look at Jackson, who remained silent. She had expected some kind of reaction.

"Ben already told me," he explained, turning his head slightly to look at her. "And...it means a lot to me." Lisa raised both eyebrows.

"How much did he tell you?" she asked curiously. Did Ben also tell him about the somewhat nasty things he had said to her?

Jackson furrowed his eyebrows, thinking. "Not much," he replied. "Just that you changed your mind, and they talked to you." He frowned when Lisa laughed dryly. "What?"

She shook her head, playing it off. "Oh, it's nothing," she assured him. Jackson had mentioned that Ben wasn't the most reliable at relaying stories, but it seemed that this time he had understated the situation. Or maybe he hadn't and Jackson didn't really care. Either way, it wasn't worth bringing up. "He's just kind of weird," she explained, provoking a small smile from Jackson.

"You noticed," he agreed, rolling off of her. He sat up, looking down at her as though he were studying her. She could tell that he wanted to say something, but he remained silent. Lisa waited silently, keeping her promise to not pry, but he had that same look on his face that he had on that original flight after seeing her scar. His face was dark, pitying, and just as unnerving as it had been.

"I don't think I can forgive him," he admitted, and Lisa realized that he was staring at her cheek. "Even if you can," he continued quickly, cutting her off before she could respond. "When it all started with our parents, I kept trying to figure out why he was hurting her...what could motivate someone to take out their anger on someone else like that." Lisa swallowed hard, sitting up. Jackson reached forward and started unbuttoning her shirt, avoiding eye contact.

"For a while, especially after we joined the agency and started all the killing, I wondered if I was like him. But I'm not. I know I hurt people, kill them, use them...but it's not the same. It's not _better_, but I never really enjoyed it," Jackson continued, sliding Lisa's shirt down her shoulders. She watched him frown, her throat dry. It was a good thing that Jackson wasn't expecting any kind of response, because she had no words for him. She was tempted to remind him that along with their "no apologies" deal came no revelations, but she wasn't about to cut him off now.

"And it's rarely been out of anger or insecurities or anything like that...I know what I'm doing, and..." He sighed, looking at the scattered bruising left by Caleb's fingers and the larger bruise on her back from being shoved against the door. "But it's not like that for him, is it? You heard him...he enjoys it." He softly traced a pattern across the small bruises on her arms, barely making contact with her skin. Lisa shuddered. She had definitely heard it. And she couldn't help but wonder if Caleb really would go back to his old life when this was all over. He had said he _thought_ he was over it...not that he really _was_.

"Jesus..." Jackson sighed in frustration, his face eerily controlled. Lisa wondered what he was seeing in his mind- he definitely didn't seem to be "there" anymore. "How could I _not_ see it? We all got the adrenaline high, but..." he trailed off, pulling back from her arm.

Lisa bit down on her lip. She wanted to comfort him somehow, to explain that it wasn't his fault that Caleb had been keeping so many secrets, but Caleb's words kept repeating in her head-_ you talk about things you just don't understand_. But when Jackson gave her that same desperate look she had seen back in Jeff's room, she couldn't keep her mouth shut.

"He's not your dad," she told him, trying to sound confident, "and neither are you. From what I can see, you do your job because you can't sit back and watch people get victimized." She waited for Jackson's small nod of confirmation before continuing. "And I thought that Caleb did _his_ because he wants to help victims, and I still think I'm right, but maybe he's more like you than I thought...but just dialed up more." She cringed. No matter how much Jackson teased her, she was definitely not a psych major. "I mean, has he ever really hurt anyone _innocent_? I killed his wife," she pointed out quickly when Jackson motioned to her, "and he's made it quite clear that he doesn't appreciate how much I've..._manipulated_ you, in his words."

Lisa fell silent when the anger on Jackson's face confirmed that she had said too much.

* * *

**Poor...everyone, really. Like I said to Miss Artemis, the next chapter will be pretty much exclusively Jackson and Lisa _finally _laying everything on the line to each other instead of going through mediators. Hope you enjoyed Caleb going off the deep end.  
**


	35. Unintended

**Alright...this one took _way _too long. So sorry for the delays, but I must have written and re-written this chapter four or five times, and changed the direction quite a few times, too. I just wasn't liking where it ended, but with help from Pirate Gyrl and AmelyShine, I finally finished! And if it's any consolation, it's the longest chapter yet. At least I didn't spend a month writing two paragraphs. :)**

**To my reviewers: You make me the happiest little Orlha possible. I was incredibly nervous about this chapter, but you all seemed to pick up on the signs as they popped up, or at least could easily piece them together after the big reveal. Since I didn't send out previews for this one, I'm going to write a "side story" (more like an outtake) that might make up for my neglect. Since I ended up skipping most of Lisa and Jackson's flight to Miami, I decided to write it all out and send it to you guys! It should be in your inboxes sometime in the next week or so. If I don't have your email, please send me an email at dick0382 umn . edu (without the spaces), because it's easier than PMing.**

**BW4eva- **Glad I was able to make it suspenseful for you, and I'm even more glad that you enjoyed it.

**KnoKnayme- **God, that made me laugh so hard. Instead of a monocle, does she get a lovely corseted gown?

**Eva- **Don't worry, Lisa doesn't really hold a grudge against Caleb. She feels more sorry for him than anything else. So they should be okay. I love CxL too- actually, there really isn't a pairing I don't enjoy writing. And you're right- Jackson and Caleb can be as different as day and night or as similar as day and later that same day. I don't have a real CxL 3 moment planned, but I could write a slightly AU side story if you email me. I already have the idea, so let me know if you're interested. But in this "canon" story, he'll be there for her- don't worry about that.

Oh, and it occurs to me that you might like Lisa's other anthem, "Talk to Me" by Peaches. It's similar to "Power and Control"...you might like her style.

**Betty- **Well, thank you! You make me blush. :)

**Tamarra- **Wow, that's so encouraging to hear. One of the last things I want is to leave the reader going "well, who _didn't_ see that coming?"

**Pirate Gyrl- **lol, the image of Genie giving them a group hug amused me for days. :P And you're right in both aspects. It's not going to deter Jackson from protecting his little brother...but it will definitely help him really see Caleb instead of having this idea in his head of who he is.

Right again! Let's just be grateful that Jackson had the self-awareness to not let them leave. They might still have it out, but at least it won't be the irrational anger and impulsive reactions.

**MademoiselleGF- **Yes, Caleb is a tight bundle of fear and self-loathing. But he's going to get better (especially if Ben has anything to say about it, which we'll see in ch. 35). I know exactly what you mean about Lisa lying, but sadly, it was something she had to do (in her mind). I know she has her moments where she's irritating as hell and seems to do stupid stuff, but she is trying her best. This definitely isn't her world.

**Miss Artemis- **Honestly, I might have wimped out on them _really _hashing it out, but they definitely make it as far as they can in this chapter. I totally agree. It's sad that Caleb felt the need to do that to Jackson, but at the same time, he really hurt him. But Jackson understands- no worries about that. And in my mind, most of Caleb's reflecting hatred onto Jackson was unconscious- I don't think he really realized he was doing it until the very end.

That's one of the issues that's really plaguing me in this story. I like Caleb and Ben, and I worry a lot that I'm building them up into too important of characters and that I stop focusing on our real main characters. But on the other hand, they really are integrated now, so I can't really push them out of the story. It's one of those things where not everyone is going to enjoy it. Thanks for the support!

**Guest- **Glad you like it. :)

**And now...the moment we've been waiting for:**

* * *

**Chapter 34: Unintended**

"_Manipulated_?" Jackson spat, and made a move to get to his feet. Lisa grabbed his wrists even though she knew that if he really wanted to, he could break out of her grip. She also knew that his nerves were stretched razor thin, and the wrong words could probably send him right back to his brother...and she definitely hadn't said the right words. Jackson yanked his hands away, but stayed on the bed, glowering at the comforter between them.

"That's what he said," she confirmed, knowing that there was no way to take it back. "When we talked about me trying to get you to leave." She sighed, tilting her head back to stare at the ceiling- why did _every_ ceiling have to be popcorn?- as though it could help her. She didn't feel like she could cherry-pick her way around this one.

"He- and Ben- said that I was getting you all confused about whether or not you're doing the right thing and then using it to my advantage to make you leave," she explained quickly. She looked at Jackson again when she felt the bed jostle. Jackson was sprawled on his back, his arm draped across his eyes.

"Bull_shit_," he snapped. Lisa crossed her legs in front of her, resting her hands in her lap. She didn't know whether or not to argue this point with him- she really _had_ done those things, even if it wasn't intentional. "I'm not _that_ easy," he muttered, sliding his arm up to rest it in his hair. He looked sidelong at Lisa. "Yes, obviously I've had some...issues...recently, but they're mine." He shook his head slowly.

"But I've been on your back so much," Lisa reminded him, leaning forward. Jackson laughed dryly.

"Leese..." he began, her name coming out as a somewhat amused groan, "...do you really think I never questioned my actions before I met you?"

"But what about you saying that you were fine before you met me?" she argued quietly. She still didn't know quite what to make of what Jackson had said to her that night. He turned his head to look at her, his eyes softening at her hurt tone.

"I _was_ fine," he replied, absently tapping his fingers on the comforter, "and you of all people know what that means." Lisa nodded sadly. She knew all too well.

"It means you're surviving," she said, playing with the hem of her skirt. "You're not good or bad...you just _are_, right?" She looked up for confirmation, and he nodded.

"And you..." He sighed, shaking his head slightly as he looked up at the ceiling again, "...you don't let me just do that. You just need more and more from me." He shook his head again. "I haven't had anyone need anything from me in a long time...at least, nothing that wasn't associated with work. My associates don't ask about my past or how I'm feeling about things."

Lisa frowned. She was surprised at how candid he was being- it was almost a complete 180 from how trying to get him to open up usually went. But she wasn't sure she liked _how_ he was saying it. "You make it sound like I'm this difficult person to be around," she noted. Jackson shrugged.

"You are," he replied, and chuckled. "Oh, don't give me your sad eyes. You're the one who said that I don't want things to be easy." Lisa laughed softly. She lifted Jackson's arm and lay down perpendicular to him, resting her head on his chest while being careful to avoid his injuries. Jackson maneuvered his arm, draping it across her waist.

"But I _have_ been manipulating you," Lisa insisted, her voice small. She had accepted that she had been wrong, and even if she couldn't apologize for it, it didn't seem right for Jackson to pretend that it was all on him.

Jackson tightened his grip. "Why?" he asked, frustrated, "Just because Caleb and Ben say so? Is _that_ why you're willing to stay...just because they said the right words to you?" Lisa turned her head to face him, frowning.

"No," she replied sharply. She didn't really like the implication that she was so easily guided. "Because I _know_ I have. You keep confiding in me, and I've been pushing you away from this life because_ I_ didn't want you to do it anymore, not necessarily because it's not right for _you_." She tried to sit up, but Jackson held her firmly. She turned away, unable to make eye contact now that she was finally ready to admit to him how stupid she had been. It was rather embarrassing, really.

"I honestly don't know what's right for you, Jackson. No, I don't _like_ what you do. But it's obviously something that's important to you, and I've been just piling on all this guilt and making things more difficult. And I told myself that I was doing it to help you, but I'm not so sure you need help, really. You are who you are, and really...there's nothing _wrong_ with you except for the fact that you think there is." She pulled away again, and Jackson finally let her go.

"I mean, you keep saying there is, and I keep telling you there's not, but I say one thing and then act another way, and of _course_ it's confusing you-"

"_Stop_," Jackson snapped, getting to his feet. Lisa hung her head, resting her forehead in her palms as she propped her elbows on her thighs. Why couldn't they just get through the conversation? "I don't want to hear you saying that anymore, and if I hear it from either of them, I'll say the same thing." Lisa shook her head, but Jackson continued as though he hadn't seen her. "I did think about leaving," he admitted, and then was silent again. Lisa lifted her head to see him pacing in a small line. She rose to her feet and walked out onto the balcony, knowing that he probably wanted a cigarette. Sure enough, he was already lighting up as he followed.

As Lisa dropped down on a chaise lounge, Jackson sat near her feet. "I did," he repeated, "but it's not because you _made_ me or _convinced_ me or whatever you want to call it." He was silent for several moments, and appeared to be searching for the words. Lisa bit her bottom lip- after everything that had been happening, maybe they should be taking a break. He was obviously overwhelmed.

"We don't have to talk about it now," she offered, but Jackson shook his head.

"We might as well get it all out now," he replied, taking a drag, "because chances are one or both of us will be dead by this time tomorrow." Lisa was momentarily startled by his bluntness, but she reminded herself that she _had_ been fishing for insight into exactly what Jackson's world looked like, and this was probably it. She had been under the impression that with Caleb and Ben's involvement, the odds were more in their favor, but maybe this was as good as it got. It was another sad reminder of just how much Jackson had been through- even the idea of his own death received a flippant remark.

"It had better not be you," she managed, pushing away the fear that was creeping in again. She reminded herself yet again that she had fought to stay, and that meant committing to it.

Jackson gave her a sad smile. "Likewise," he replied, taking another drag. "But it probably won't be you. They'll want someone to get information on the rest of the agency, and since you're the only woman, they'll probably try to keep you alive." Lisa frowned and moved around him to get to her feet, suddenly feeling nauseous. She didn't really know how to respond to that.

"You want something to drink?" she asked, needing to take a step back from the conversation for a moment. What did 'getting information' entail in Jackson's world? Was he saying that she would be merely interrogated, or would it be like in the movies with snapping bones and one of those spinning sandpaper tools- her dad would have known what they were called- to the flesh until she confessed?

Jackson nodded, eyeing her knowingly. "Water's fine," he replied. Lisa quickly retrieved two water bottles, pausing for a moment at the minibar. She briefly debated asking Jackson for clarification about what he had said, but realized that she would rather not hear about it. If he did mean the latter, his casual attitude suggested that he had partaken in such...activities...to the point that he had become blasé. She really didn't want to think about _that_.

Lisa dropped on the chaise lounge again, handing him his water. She took a slow drink, banishing the remnants of her previous thoughts while trying to wait patiently for what he was going to say next. "Well," he began again, setting the bottle next to his feet after taking a drink. "I told you that I went into the agency almost straight out of college, and that was over six years ago. Since then, that's been my life, basically." He took a quick drag. "It's been all targets, marks, and associates. The people who were with me _wanted_ to be- it was by choice."

Lisa opened her mouth to say that she did want to be there with him, but took a drink of her water instead. She could tell that he was building up to something, and knew it was probably best to not contradict him right off the bat. Besides, when she had first gone to Minnesota looking for him, it was out of necessity, not choice, so he wasn't really wrong in that sense.

"And then I felt like I was dragging you much farther than I should have into the whole thing. I _knew_ it was a bad idea to try things with you and that you would be so much better off far away from all this, but I did it anyway."

Lisa nodded slowly, but that same pang of annoyance was making its presence known. Maybe at first she hadn't come to him by choice, but she would have thought that by now, he would have realized that she did choose it. But considering what he had gone through with his brother, not to mention the suggestion of an ultimatum, it would probably be damn near impossible to really make him understand. "And having Caleb here probably didn't help," she replied, frowning. "Because you thought the same about him, didn't you?" Jackson nodded, smiling humorlessly.

"When he left, he told me that he's better than 'this life'," he told her. "I don't know, he just made it sound like I was beneath him and I just took it to mean that he only went into it in the first place because he was following me. And he left, and that was pretty much it...you know the rest. We didn't really talk, and when we did, he didn't really want to hear about the agency. He did most of the talking, really." He quickly flipped his bangs away from his forehead. "I just let it all get to me, I guess." He waved his hand absently before running it through his hair. "But I dealt with it and moved on."

_Until I came along._ Lisa shook her head, crossing her arms. She didn't know what to say to this. It was obvious to her that by 'dealing with it', Jackson meant that he had pushed it all away like everything else and refused to really face it. And now he was- they all were. When she had started prying into Jackson's life, she had never imagined in her wildest dreams that such a twisted story lay beneath the hard surface.

Not that she was constantly a drain on him- she couldn't help but wonder how the events would have unfolded if she would have surrendered in Miami. Cheryl would have likely still betrayed the brothers. Maybe Jackson wouldn't have survived the encounter with the Russians, but maybe he would have. Regardless, Jackson, Caleb, and Ben would all have likely been killed by Robert and his team. But in an alternate universe where things went differently and they survived all that, would the fact that Caleb and Jackson were working together again have been enough to bring their gnarled past to the present? Or would they have continued to be content in pretending that things were fine?

Lisa shook her head again. It was useless to think about the 'what ifs'. Only the present and the future mattered. She did wonder if Jackson regretted his decision to let her in, but there was no point in asking. Besides, it was yet another question that she wasn't sure she really wanted answered. She watched Jackson take another deep drag, tilting his head up toward the late morning sun, his eyes closed. He still looked so tense, but significantly less miserable.

"And you saw it as history repeating itself?" she asked softly, sliding closer to him. Jackson nodded as she moved to sit behind him again, but he remained silent. "I'm just here because of you, not because I actually want it? You're...ruining me, right?" She slid her hands up Jackson's back, pressing her palms against the tight muscles. Jackson nodded again, relaxing slightly at her touch. "And do you think that I'll leave you too when you're not enough anymore?" she asked tentatively, and felt Jackson stiffen again. She wished it could be as easy as reminding him that she wasn't Caleb.

"Yes," he replied softly. "It's inevitable. There's no future with me, at least not the one you want." Lisa frowned, but continued her ministrations. She knew that she had to hear him out- he would know better than anyone else what kind of life he saw himself living. "You said you wanted kids and all that...and that just won't happen."

Lisa pulled her hands back, her stomach dropping. How could he be so _sure_ about it? "You don't want them?" she asked. Jackson sighed heavily.

"That's not the point," he replied flatly. "It just wouldn't work. I'd have to start lying to him from the start, about the things that should be a given in a kid's life." Lisa nodded. So he wanted them...maybe...but he was just worried that his job wasn't really something he could share?

"You could tell him or her eventually," she reminded him. "They'd understand why you had to lie about it." She laughed softly. "I mean, you can't very well have your kid standing in front of their class and telling them that their dad is an assassin."

Jackson shook his head, taking a drag from his cigarette. Lisa debated moving so she could see his face again. The conversation was both harder and easier when they couldn't see each other. "No, I know that," he explained. "I'm talking about my _name_. Leese...you know I live under an alias..." He trailed off, and Lisa paled, realizing what he was getting at. She had already realized back at Dallas Fort Worth that any future children she had would have to be raised under a different name, but it hadn't really hit her that she couldn't even tell her _children_ her real name. She wouldn't be able to tell them about her father, or anything specific about her past. She couldn't show them yearbooks, photos- anything, really, because it would lead to questions she wouldn't fully be able to answer.

But they could explain it one day, couldn't they? Just like a kid can't be trusted with the knowledge of what Jackson did, they also couldn't be trusted with their real names. But the kid would understand- hopefully- and it's not like those little lies would change who Jackson and Lisa were. Well, that wasn't really true.

"And there's no chance you're going to quit?" she asked softly, almost to herself. She already knew the answer, but she felt like she had to hear it one more time. She understood where Jackson was coming from. While she still meant what she had said about not wanting him to quit for any other reason than because he wanted to, she also saw that while he was with the agency, he would _never_ want or be able to have a family.

She remembered how shocked she had been the first time she had seen photos from World War II, knowing that her grandpa had been in that war and had been part of all that death. Even if it was miniscule, it changed how she saw him. And that was forty years before she was born. She couldn't imagine finding out that her own father- or mother- had not only killed many people, but was _still_ doing so, or at least had done so until recently.

"No," came the blunt reply, and Lisa crossed her arms over her chest, bowing her head. He was right. On top of the lying, after all the things they had done, how would either of them be able to tell a child that they had to follow the rules- or even the _laws_ for that matter- with a straight face?

"But what does that have to do with you?" she asked, making eye contact with him as he turned to look at her, confused. "Even if we split up and I met someone else, I still really couldn't have that future anymore...at least, not without feeling like a complete liar and hypocrite." She shrugged. "Yeah, it sucks, but it's just one more thing. And I kind of figured it out back when we first talked about what a new identity meant back at the airport, so..." She gave him a half-hearted smile. "...you'll have to do better than that to scare me away."

Jackson returned her weak smile. "I'm not trying to _scare_ you," he replied, "I'm warning you." Lisa nodded.

"I know," she assured him. It was kind of funny to her, actually. He claimed that she was there because of his own selfishness, but he seemed to take every opportunity to try to convince her to leave. How did he not see that? He had given her a thousand reasons to run into the night, but never any reason to stay. Well, no verbal reasons. Did he not see the good things about him, or did he just think they didn't matter? Really, he was the opposite of selfish- he had told her that he loved her, shown her that he needed her, and yet he listed off the cons of a relationship with him with unbridled honestly, making sure that if she chose to stay, it was without misgivings. When Caleb had left the agency, it seemed that eventually, he mostly respected it and backed away, even though it was obvious to her that it had hurt him.

He was considerate- even though she knew that he didn't tolerate weakness, when things had truly become overwhelming for her, he did show her compassion. After the car chase, he had allowed a break even though it was definitely important that he get to Marie as soon as possible. As for her problems with her family, even though things fell apart in the end, he had tried to be there for her- in the dressing room, at the airport, in Ben's room. Even if he didn't ask the questions, he had made it clear that he would listen.

Beyond that, Jackson was smart in all the ways a person could be- he was witty, well-educated, seemed to possess a knowledge of 'the real world' that surpassed most of the people she knew. And, he was stunningly attractive. Yes, the last one was shallow, but the point was that there were so many positive attributes that drew her in, and yet, he seemed to hold fast to the belief that he was _not_ good.

Why was he so eager to take on the blame for the things that happened? She remembered back in Minnesota, when he had tried to ease her guilt about what had happened to her dad. She had thought that he was the kind of man who easily shifted blame to others, but it was becoming more and more evident that Jackson _clung_ to guilt, refusing to absolve himself. It was clear to her that in his mind, he didn't deserve any happiness.

The two fell silent again, but it was a different kind of silence. Lisa dropped her gaze to the ground. To say she felt uncomfortable was an understatement- she couldn't shake the feeling that Jackson was building to something, that at any moment he was going to cut and run. Maybe it was just because over half of their conversations in the last few days had ended with a break being inevitable and she was just paranoid.

"I tried to get our mom help once," Jackson finally said, turning away again to stare at a building across the street. Lisa snapped her attention back to him, caught off-guard. "When we were fifteen, a few months after it started...Caleb and I were snowmobiling, and I crashed and broke my arm." He laughed humorlessly.

"I've never even seen a snowmobile," Lisa blurted out softly, almost to herself. She blushed lightly in embarrassment- snowmobiles were _so_ not the point of the story. To her relief, Jackson just nodded, amusement in his features.

"I'll take you out sometime," he replied, and paused, a small smile tugging at his lips. Lisa couldn't keep the stupid grin from her face, either. It was the first time either of them had actually spoken about the future without using conditional words or flat out rejecting the idea. In his mind, for a moment at least, Lisa was going to be around until this was over, and beyond. He saw a place for her in his future, and she definitely wanted him in hers. It seemed that she _had_ been paranoid.

The moment passed, and Jackson continued. "She waited until the next day to take me to the doctor, which I'm sure would make Caleb cringe if he thought about it now...but Dr. Frederick wasn't in until then." He shook his head, and it amused Lisa somewhat to see him actually rambling. "Doesn't matter- anyway, Frederick and my dad went way back, and he asked me if I got in a fight with him."

Lisa shook her head at the sad irony, but Jackson didn't seem to notice. "Obviously he was kidding, but I looked at him and told him no, but he should see what my dad had done to my mom." Lisa raised both eyebrows. It was a very Jackson-esque response- a light comment on the surface, even a joke to some, but with dark truth hidden behind it. "My mom dismissed it as a sick joke, and Frederick believed her because I was 'the creepy one' and all that...she said I was a liar, and after that, I stopped trying to help her." He laughed again, stomping out his cigarette. "We never talked about it again...not even Caleb knows what I said. After the trial, that man couldn't look me in the eye until the day Caleb and I left."

Lisa shook her head sadly. She couldn't imagine being fifteen and being called a liar about something like that, especially when you _weren't_ lying. From everything she had heard about that time in the brothers' lives, it wasn't really _that_ surprising that they turned out the way they had. She wondered if on some level, Jackson _liked_ living under an alias instead of his father's name. It had probably helped him avoid thinking about such misery.

"_Fuck_," Jackson hissed, getting to his feet. Lisa frowned at his little outburst, watching him move away and lean against the railing.

"What's wrong?" she asked, even though she knew that generally, it was a stupid question. But there was too much going on for _her_ to pinpoint exactly what he was upset about at the moment. They made eye contact for a brief moment, and Lisa was taken aback at just how pained he looked. She saw absolutely none of the confidence that usually lurked _somewhere_ behind those eyes, and instead, saw just how lost he really was.

"I can't do this right now," he finally said, dropping his gaze to stare at the ground. Lisa's face fell. She was crestfallen- how could they come back to this after everything that had happened? "Everything is-"

"Are you kidding me?" she snapped, interrupting him. She rose to her feet, her sadness quickly morphing into anger. "You're doing this _again_?"

Jackson's hands fell to his sides, gripping the railing tightly. "It's not like that," he explained defensively.

"Then what?" Lisa demanded, walking to stand directly in front of him. "What is it _this_ time?" She knew that she should probably be cutting Jackson some slack, but the fact of the matter was that she was sick of him running and even more tired of chasing him or worse, falling back until he decided that he was ready to try again.

Jackson looked up at her again, his eyes darker than usual. "Maybe you should let me explain," he replied flatly, and Lisa's anger rose.

"Don't you _dare_ give me that tone," she snapped. It was bad enough that he was breaking it off again, but to close himself off and act like he was made of stone? To talk to her as though she was some stranger and he didn't love her? That was just unacceptable. "Explain then."

Jackson quickly looked away, knowing he had been called out. "It's not you," he replied, his voice softer again. "I know that my walking away at this point isn't going to give you some kind of normalcy- I _know_ that. And it's not even because you keep prying into everything." Lisa crossed her arms, shifting her weight to one hip.

"Then what?" she asked, no less angry. She wasn't interrupting this time- he had stopped talking yet again.

"Because I can't handle a relationship right now," he admitted, the words quickly falling from his lips as though if he paused, he wouldn't be able to get them out. "When I'm with you, you want me to tell you all these things, but it's just..." He clenched his jaw. "...it's too much, alright?"

"I can't believe you're doing this again," Lisa muttered, stepping away from him.

"I can't believe you don't understand _why_," he retorted, heading for the balcony door. Lisa quickly moved in front of him, blocking the exit.

"No," she snapped, defiant. "You said we had to get it all out, so you don't get to run away now." She crossed her arms again. "You're right- I don't understand. So _explain_."

Jackson sighed, turning away slightly. "I know you think that talking about everything that's happening is going to somehow make it all better, but you know what? I still have the same damn problems. It doesn't change what's happening- it doesn't fix anything."

Lisa shook her head. "Because keeping it to yourself has worked so well, right?" She ignored the pang of regret when a sad smile tugged at his lips. She knew that she was hurting him, but she couldn't just sit back and watch him walk out again. "I'm not trying to _fix_ you," she reminded him. "I just want to be there for you. You know, support you. I'm not trying to force you to talk...I just told you that you don't have to-"

Jackson nodded shortly "I get that," he interrupted, and when he ran a hand through his hair, Lisa noticed how his hand trembled. "I even _want_ to talk to you. Just not now." He sighed. Any reassurance Lisa felt was crushed again by what he said next. "And I don't know when I'll be ready."

"It doesn't work that way," she replied softly. She wanted so badly to get through to him, to make him realize that getting away from _her_ also wasn't going to solve his problems. "Let me guess- you want me to back away for God knows how long, start a new life somewhere waiting for the day when you decide that I'm allowed in again, and in the meantime, you're going to handle what's happening with Caleb in the same way you handled everything else- push it away. And when you _do_ decide that you want to try with me again, we're going to start all over again and before long, we'll be having this exact same conversation."

Jackson smiled bitterly. "I'm not talking about _years_," he explained. "I just can't say how long...five days, six weeks, two months? I don't know. I'm just asking for time, Leese."

Lisa shook her head. "I told you already," she reminded him. "I'm not doing this back and forth thing again." She bit down hard on her lip. It was hard to be so forceful with him, but she had to think about herself as well. She was aware that he didn't really address most of what she had said. She didn't see how backing off was going to help anything. She hugged herself tighter, bracing herself for what she was about to say. "So if you really want time...you can have all of it, because I'm not doing this again."

Jackson's head snapped to look at her, his jaw dropping slightly and his eyes pleading. Lisa dropped her gaze to the ground again, tears welling in her eyes. She couldn't handle that desperate face- it would make her completely lose her resolve, and even if it hurt both of them, she _knew_ that she was right. The tears cascaded freely when she remembered his plea back in Dallas- _Don't walk out on me like that again._

Each second that Jackson remained silent dragged on into a painful forever. Lisa wanted so badly to take it back. She wanted to tell him to take the time he needed, and she would be there. But it wasn't right. It wasn't just this one time, this one conversation- it was back in Minnesota, when he had admitted that he wasn't sure he wanted her to be out of his life, only to walk out. It was in Iowa, when he had told her that he had told her that he cared about her before storming away from the car. It was in Dallas, when he had kissed her only to lock himself up tightly again. It was in Jeff's house, when he had opened up to her in desperation and then sent her on her way, refusing to back down over a misunderstanding...it was every time he had opened up to her and then lashed out when he decided it was enough.

Countless times Lisa had been left alone, either physically or emotionally while Jackson regrouped. And when he 'came back', it lasted briefly before she was pushed away yet again. And yes, she was tired of it, but that wasn't the point. The point was that she _would_ do it again and again because she loved him and wanted so badly to be there for him. But at a certain point...it wasn't helping. In fact, it was probably hurting her more than it was helping him, if it was helping him at all.

"Don't do this," he finally implored, his voice wavering slightly. "This isn't about some hypothetical future- right _now_, I can't be what I should be for you. But I want to be...I just need to get my head on straight first."

Lisa shook her head, forcing away her inner voice screaming to stop being a bitch and just give him what he asked for. "Then tell me I'm wrong," she replied, her voice strained. She squeezed her eyes shut to stop the tears. "I wouldn't even care if you didn't want to talk about your feelings, but like this...you're some kind of time bomb. If I hit the wrong buttons, you just blow up at me."

She cringed at how stupid that sounded, but she didn't know a more eloquent way to put it. She knew that she was coming across as the woman who just kept on pressing, who needed more, but that wasn't what she was looking for. She also knew that it was her fault that he saw here that way- she had gone too far too many times. If or when Jackson wanted to talk, she was willing to listen, but when he did open up, he ended up lashing out too, and that was what she hated. She fully understood that he had to face his problems before he could talk to her about them, but she had a feeling that he _wouldn't_.

She looked up to see Jackson run both hands through his hair, gripping the back of his neck tightly. "Tell me you're not going to shut yourself off and bury your problems again, and that we won't end up right here again when you do come back."

When Jackson remained silent, Lisa continued. "It's not going to take days or weeks for you to be okay with everything that's happened," she said. "It might take years...you and Caleb might never be alright again, really. You yourself told me that you're not really over what happened with your parents, and that was what? A _decade_ ago?"

Jackson nodded tensely. "I'm not saying that," he explained weakly, and Lisa saw the glistening in his eyes before he shut them. "I know that I won't."

"And I'm not asking for you to magically be alright," she replied. She leaned against the glass door. She probably wanted to leave more than he did at that point- she hated how much it was hurting him- but they _had_ to get through this. "I'm just...I can't handle you leaving when things get difficult anymore."

"I get that," he replied, sighing in frustration. "But I can't right now." Lisa sighed in frustration, her breath coming out as a shudder.

"Then what's the point?" she asked, feeling defeated. "You think you'll suddenly be able to someday?"

Jackson clenched his jaw, stretching his fingers to their limit in frustration. "Let me explain," he repeated, almost spitting out the words. Lisa bit her lip in regret, and almost apologized. She had gotten so caught up that she had forgotten that when Jackson was feeling incredibly overwhelmed, it took him longer than usual to get the right words out. They were definitely different in that regard- Jackson took his time, trying carefully to choose the most appropriate words- with varying success- and Lisa tended to speak before she even thought about it, reacting solely on what her gut told her.

"_Right now_," he continued when she remained silent, "I need to focus on the job. And after that, I need to focus on Marie." He shook his head. "If I'm thinking about everything that's happening, I'm not focused. And that can get us killed."

Lisa frowned, crossing her ankles as she leaned against the glass. "What are you doing with Marie?" she asked. Caleb had explained the hit Marie had put on her, but she hadn't heard anything else about it after that. Couldn't Jackson just explain to Marie that Lisa wasn't taking him out, and things would be fine?

Jackson leaned against the railing again. "We're going to kill her," he explained, and Lisa's eyes almost popped out of her head. _That_ was a bit of an overreaction, wasn't it? Obviously she didn't like hearing that there was a hit put out on her, but she assumed that kind of thing was normal- kill those who got in the way. "When Ben refused to accept the job, she marked _him_, and..." He shrugged. "...it's just time for a new director. It's a longer story than that, but it's neither here nor there."

Lisa paled. It wasn't hard to piece together that if Jackson knew about the mark, he was the one ordered to carry it out. And even if he played it off, she had seen the respect and fondness in his eyes in Oklahoma and on the plane when she had brought up Marie. It _had_ to have been difficult for him to decide that Marie had to be taken out, but he was explaining it casually, as though she were just another target.

Despite how easily he told her, Lisa knew that it had taken some toll on him, and it resonated with her. She was starting to understand what he was saying. The poor man was being hit from all sides, and he definitely seemed to be at his limit. She stared at her feet, thinking that maybe he was right. Maybe it was better that he bury the "irrelevant"- his issues with Caleb, their relationship- just like he had his obvious feelings for Marie.

Normally she would scoff at the idea and insist that a person couldn't just dismiss their own feelings so easily. But with Jackson...she _knew_ he could do that. She had seen it with her own eyes. She didn't know how many times she had seen a storm raging in those penetrating eyes that just seemed to vanish when he willed it. But lately, she had seen the opposite happen more often- something in him seemed to fall apart when she was around, like her very presence broke his barriers.

She looked up again, meeting Jackson's eyes. She saw that there was something he was holding back, but he definitely didn't look like he was trying to figure out how to say it. He was deliberately keeping something from her, and she doubted he would just come out with it if she asked bluntly.

"But we're going after Keefe tonight," she reminded him, "and it can't _take_ that long to kill Marie, can it? So..." She trailed off, eyeing Jackson pointedly. If all he was worried about was keeping his focus for those two jobs, they were probably looking at a week, max. Why was he being so dramatic about it?

"Do you trust me?" he asked, and Lisa nodded without hesitation, but she couldn't help but feel slightly irritated that he was playing the trust card. "Then please believe that you're better off going with Caleb for a while."

She shook her head. "No," she replied flatly. His tactic switch was too convenient, and she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being handled. "I need an explanation." She put her hands on her hips, daring Jackson to lie to her, claiming that he had already told her. Yes, he had explained that he needed to get his head on straight, but she could see in his eyes that there was more to it. And besides, the same problem came right back- he was talking about pushing the issues down to focus on the job, but at the same time, he was talking about facing them himself. It was all so confusing.

Jackson pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily. He shook his head again and gripped the bars of the railing. "Why did you change your mind about what I do?" he asked, and Lisa did a double take. _Way to completely change the subject..._

"I told you," she replied, her tone clipped, "Caleb and Ben talked to me about it, and the more I thought about it, I knew I was wrong." Jackson nodded.

"What did they tell you?" he asked, and although the question seemed innocent, Lisa felt as though he was definitely heading somewhere with the abrupt change of direction.

"I was worried about all the betrayal that's been happening," she replied, now curious to see where he was going. He just stared at her, waiting for her to continue. "Caleb told me that it's rare, and-"

"And I remember telling you the same thing," Jackson interrupted fluidly, as though he had anticipated her response. Lisa closed her eyes, a flush rising to her cheeks. He was right- he _had_ already told her. "What else?" She shook her head, already knowing where this was going.

"They said some other things, but that was the biggest factor," she explained quietly. "They both talked about how the agency protects people- which you already told me," she added before Jackson got the chance. "And how you don't just do it because you want to kill people...it's because you aren't right for a 'normal life'- which you also already told me."

Jackson crossed his arms, and Lisa stared at the ground, wishing it could swallow her. How could she explain to him that it wasn't that she hadn't _believed_ him, but that she just needed to hear it from someone else? She wasn't sure even she really understood why.

"Well, answer me this," he began, and Lisa looked up to meet his unimpressed eyes again. "If Caleb were standing here telling you that you need to go to New York, but wouldn't give you any other reason other than to trust him...what would you say?"

Lisa wanted to tell him that she would still demand an explanation, but she hesitated. She knew why he was asking, and she wanted to make sure that her answer was honest. She thought back to the various moments spent with Jackson's brother. She had questioned him many times, but it was usually when she needed advice on Jackson or what to do next...but had she ever questioned the actual explanations he gave her? Did she actually trust Caleb more than Jackson?

"I probably would do what he said," she admitted, her voice wavering slightly. It was so hard to say after the recent developments. She definitely had more of a reason to question Caleb's motives now, but what about before they had gone to her dad's house? Before his breakdown and before Ben had explained that both he and Caleb were fully capable of saying whatever they had to to get what they wanted from her? "But that's because..." she trailed off as she met Jackson's eyes again. She knew her reasons meant little to him.

"So don't you think you owe me the benefit of the doubt?" he asked calmly, and Lisa's cheeks flushed again. He didn't sound angry, hurt, or surprised, just somewhat vindicated. She supposed it made sense, though. He probably knew that in Lisa's mind, until recently, Caleb hadn't given her any reason not to trust him, whereas Jackson had given her many. In fact, he had given her _more_ reasons since their arrival in Miami. He likely knew this, and that's why he couldn't very well be upset by the fact that she had been questioning his motives.

But that wasn't really the issue this time. Lisa didn't really think Jackson went through all that just to get his way. She was worried- there was something in the way he held himself that told her that the information he was hiding wasn't a trivial matter, to say the least. If there was even _more_ danger, she felt as though she had a right to know.

Lisa stepped closer to him. "How about a compromise?" she suggested, and Jackson raised his eyebrows almost imperceptibly, his curiosity piqued. "We can change the order...if I agree to take a temporary break, will you tell me why?" She knew that he could easily refuse, saying that if he explained his reason, she might change her mind. She also knew that she could counter by saying that she was giving him the benefit of the doubt by agreeing to his request, and that if he still refused to tell her after, then _he_ wasn't trusting _her_ to keep her word.

Jackson let out a small chuckle of disbelief, running his hand through his hair. "I just told you," he replied incredulously, putting out his cigarette and immediately lighting another. He didn't even _want_ the nicotine, but he needed to keep his hands busy and the small distraction was more than welcome. He felt a familiar jolt through his legs- it was past time to leave, but he willed himself to remain patient.

He didn't really blame Lisa, or at least he was trying to convince himself of it. He hadn't really been his most mature around her lately, so of course she thought he was just running away. But _still_...until this point, she had fully trusted Caleb, and she even went to Ben when she had been upset- which Jackson understood now, but it was still an indication of how much she trusted him- couldn't she give him something?

He had opened up to her the best he could- he _did_ need to focus solely on the job, and after that- if they survived the night and if the fallout from killing Marie didn't go as badly as he predicted- he needed the downtime to himself just to wrap his head around everything that was happening. And he _would_ face it...he wasn't sure how exactly, but he knew that Caleb's confession to him wasn't something he could just pretend hadn't happened...or at least, he knew that Lisa didn't think so.

In all honestly, during the time he had spent in his room away from his brother, Jackson was quickly accepting what Caleb had said. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that it had actually been fairly obvious- for the most part. He definitely hadn't expected Caleb to admit that he wanted their mother dead- where the hell had _that_ come from?- but the rest...it actually made sense in its own twisted way. A rational man like Caleb definitely wouldn't be able to handle that rush that came with killing without feeling some kind of disgust toward himself.

Yes, it hurt him to know that Caleb had projected his self-hatred onto him, but really...Jackson wasn't as angry as he probably should be about it. He had always felt an urge to protect his brother, and if that meant taking on his hate...well, it was probably fucked up to most people, but Jackson was more upset with himself for not seeing things for what they were. Caleb shouldn't hate himself for enjoying what they had done, and if blaming Jackson meant that he hated himself less, then so be it. And as Ben had said, now that it was all out in the open, they could work with it. It wasn't the end of the world.

He knew that he would probably always harbor some resentment toward his brother for what he had done to Lisa, but he was even starting to accept that. He might not ever be able to completely forgive Caleb, but he knew that he could move on from it. It was horrible, but Jackson had to force himself to remain objective. In a strange way, it was almost as though Caleb hadn't really been trying to hurt Lisa. He had been trying to get Jackson's attention, or take his anger on himself out on Lisa as an extension of Jackson. It explained what Caleb had done to Lisa and why he had told Jackson in such a...cruel way. Regardless, it was another one of those things that would heal with time and not with forced discussion between himself and Lisa or even himself and his brother. It was one of those things that talking would never fix.

"But it's not making sense," Lisa insisted, tearing Jackson from his thoughts again. "If you need to focus on the job...that won't take long. What exactly are you asking for?"Jackson took a deep drag of his cigarette, his annoyance flaring again. This whole discussion was like a water wheel.

"I need to focus on the job, and after that, I need time to myself...to face things. That's it," he replied, forcing his voice to remain even. Lisa crossed her arms.

"But will you actually face it?" she asked, and Jackson exhaled sharply. This was it- this was when the whole trust question kept coming back into play. She assumed based on his past behavior that he would go right back into his shell when given the chance, but he wouldn't. Just because he couldn't handle talking about what was happening didn't mean that he wouldn't face it internally once this was over.

"I said I will, didn't I?" he asked tensely. He knew there was nothing logical that would lead her to believe that he really would- it was why he needed her trust, deserved or not.

There was also the fact that if the fallout from Marie didn't go well, he didn't want Lisa anywhere near him. Not that he would tell her about _that_- she would likely interpret it as Jackson using 'I need time' as a bullshit excuse to keep her out of danger. He wanted her to be safe, but he was done pushing her away to protect her. He would tell her eventually, but not during this conversation.

Lisa surprised Jackson by nodding. Apparently she finally believed him. His relief was short-lived, though. "There's something else, isn't there?" she asked quietly, concern on her features. "There's another reason you want me to leave..."

Jackson clenched his jaw. Yes, he was keeping something from her, but it just didn't factor into his request. And he _knew_ that if he told her, she wouldn't buy it anymore. "You do realize that there are other things on my mind than us, right?" he asked, his tone clipped. The hurt and embarrassment in Lisa's eyes made it clear that Jackson's remark had hit its target. He knew he should have been nicer about it, but Christ- he had told her his reasons, but she just kept pushing him for more. If being patient wouldn't work, then being blunt should.

"Fine." Jackson tossed his cigarette to the side when Lisa turned to leave, defeated. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back to him.

"Listen," he began, "I swear that I'm not asking for any other reasons than I told you." He wrapped an arm around Lisa's shoulders, pulling her close to him. He really didn't want to part on bad terms, and knew that he had to give one last attempt at making her understand. "It won't be that bad...once this is over, you can go to Minnesota with Caleb, get your divorce, your new license, and all that- and I promise that I'll come back when I can..." His cheeks flushed as he rested his chin on her head- he sounded like an idiot. "...and then I'll really be there." _Yeah, that wasn't better._ "...alright?"

Lisa relaxed against Jackson's chest, sighing deeply. She had been hurt by what he had said, but she was more angry at herself when she realized that yet again, she was sending mixed messages. She had told him that she wasn't going to fight anything from him, but she had gotten carried away and ended up interrogating him again anyway. She had been upset when he lashed out at her yet again, but pulling her right back was something he hadn't done before. And even though he wasn't apologizing for anything, she could hear it in his tone. He was _trying_ to do right by her, so she should give him what he needed.

And if he said that he would work things out, she had to believe him. She owed him that. On top of that, she wanted to believe it was true. She wasn't his mother- she couldn't constantly keep an eye on him, nor did she even want to. She needed to just let him be...

The way he explained things, it was starting to sound reasonable to her. Maybe a small break when things were finished in Miami would be a good idea. They could both think things through without being practically forced into each other's space. It made sense, but now she didn't want to leave. She felt too comfortable in his arms. Maybe she was being naive, but there was something in the way that he had pulled her back to him that spoke volumes to her and erased the last of her anger and frustration. Somehow, she knew they were going to make it through this.

She moved her head to look up at Jackson, giving him a small smile as he pressed his lips to hers. She curled her fingers in his shirt, tightly gripping the soft fabric. With a soft sigh and a large dose of mental effort, she pushed away from him, still smiling. "I should go," she murmured, closing her eyes again as his face lingered near hers, their noses barely brushing. "Wouldn't want to keep distracting you," she continued good-naturedly, keeping a strong hint of teasing in her voice so Jackson would know she wasn't upset anymore.

Jackson laughed softly, kissing her gently again. "You're probably right," he conceded. Lisa giggled as his gaze dropped down to her mostly bare chest, and she placed her fingers on his jaw, pulling him up to meet her eyes again.

"Focus, Rippner," she commanded firmly, unable to hide her amusement. Jackson trailed his fingers down her spine, causing a slight shiver.

"Then put on a shirt, Reisert," he replied, "if you must." Lisa shook her head as she walked back into the room, still grinning. She didn't bother mentioning that she hadn't been wearing a shirt since the beginning of their conversation, pulling the button-up over her arms and across her chest.

"Did you mean what you said about not trying to fix me?" Lisa's fingers stopped as she looked over her shoulder to glance back at Jackson again. He leaned against the balcony door frame, his arms crossed.

Lisa nodded. "I know I get carried away sometimes," she replied, turning to face him. She couldn't help but smile again when Jackson turned against the doorframe, his body now facing a different wall. She wondered if he realized that he did that- she had noticed that both brothers seemed to avoid standing face-to-face. It was just another curiosity, really.

"But really, I don't want to drag things out of you...anymore. I don't mean to press you," she explained, continuing to button her shirt again. "I'll listen to anything you want to tell me, though." Jackson nodded, visibly relaxing, and Lisa ran her hand through her short hair. "Did you mean what you said about wanting to talk to me?"

He nodded again, and Lisa smiled, a warmth spreading across her chest. It was a little ridiculous, but she couldn't rid herself of that little bit of giddiness. She felt like they had found their happy medium, and more and more she was accepting the impending break. "What are you going to do now?"

"Wait for Ben to come back," Jackson replied, and Lisa could already hear the manager chill creeping into his voice. It was eerie, but fascinating. "We still have to work out some details."

Lisa nodded. "We can use tape on our doors to keep them unlocked," she told him. "The censors won't be able to tell the door's open if it's up against the frame, and that way, there won't be records of us using our keys to get back in."

"Good to know," Jackson replied, looking somewhat impressed. Lisa laughed softly and turned to walk out. As her hand touched the doorknob, she turned around again.

"When I was in high school, my mom tried to get me into modeling. She had it in her head that I could make up for her somehow...she failed at it," Lisa explained softly, watching as Jackson's posture changed with his obvious curiosity as to where this had come from.

"That's why I started doing sports. I mean, I liked it after awhile, but I didn't do it because I wanted to, really. I had no interest in modeling and agencies don't want a girl whose thighs touch." She laughed again at Jackson's confused expression. "Sports build leg muscles and make your butt big," she explained. "So my mom didn't get what she wanted, and that's why I wear skirts now...I could never really make my legs smaller again. Now they're a reminder of how I was too afraid to just tell my mom I didn't want to model." She shrugged lightly, smiling shyly at Jackson. She hoped that he wasn't just taking this as another 'woman bitching about her appearance' moment. "I've never told anyone else that before," she finished pointedly.

Jackson nodded slowly, and she could tell that he knew she was giving him a secret of her own. Lisa had realized that while Jackson had been opening himself up more and more, she hadn't really told him anything he didn't already know. And that wasn't really fair, so she thought she should tell him one of her embarrassing stories.

"I think you look good in jeans," he finally replied, his lips curling into a cheeky little grin.

Lisa broke out into laughter again. "Or without them, right?" she asked, laughing yet again when he nodded. She continued giggling to herself as she left the room, deciding that the moment was a good place to part.

* * *

**Hope I didn't drive too many people up the wall with yet another little split. It was headed for a more permanent, angry break, but Jackson and Lisa fought me and ended up on good terms, thankfully. And don't worry- they're not literally splitting from each other. They're still going to work together and everything, but there won't be much talking for a few chapters. And the Keefe scenes will start in chapter 36, if not 35, so we're heading right into it now!**

**If anyone is interested, the name and much of the inspiration for this chapter comes from Muse's "Unintended". Check it out- it's very sweet.**


	36. The Sleeper Awakens

**Thanks as always to my readers, especially those who reviewed. You make my day sparkle. **

**BW4eva:** Don't worry- come hell or high water, I am _determined _to finish this story. I did lose interest a bit for about two weeks when the words just weren't sounding right, but I'm back on track.

**Eva:** That's weird. Did you put the "at" sign in the right place? dick0382 "at" umn . edu. I don't mean to _keep _nagging about it, but the idea I have in mind definitely wouldn't work in a sequel since it's based in a reality where things go _very _differently than they will in this story. And it doesn't really work as a dream sequence since it would require about two chapters of Lisa questioning exactly where the _eff _that came from. :D Plus, it's my little gift to you, as my resident CxL shipper.

**Perhaps-A-Star:** It's back on track! :) And wow...I think that's one of the biggest compliments a writer can hear. Now I'm all worried that I'm going to mess up in the next few chapters and you'll be all *table flip*. :D Love seeing you pop in, by the way!

**Betty:** Glad I could brighten your day. :)

**Pirate Gyrl:** Oh God, I had about three major redos on how their conversation went. One was Lisa deciding that she couldn't give up her dreams of kids because it meant too much to her, one was Jackson just closing up again when being open was just earning him more questions and more prodding, and one was Lisa just losing her shit and not being talked down. But they just neeeever seemed right.

As for your fears, I can tell you this- I have actually figured out this story to the END. Yes, there's going to be an END. God knows how many chapters it will be. I predict ten, but back in chapter 7, I told son-of-puji that I figured there would be "at least 8 more chapters", and we all can see how _that _prediction went. But I digress. The end will be bittersweet. Not hopelessly tragic, but not _really _happy, either. And Jackson has another few sucker punches in store, so we'll see how long his whole "I need to be alone" will work out for him.

**WARNING:** **The beginning of this chapter does have more Ben back story, but I promise it's relevant to the rest of the chapter. So if you're not really into that, don't give up! :) In fact, most of this chapter is _very _OC-centric...it's Caleb and Ben for about 9000 words. But it's kind of important stuff. ****This chapter is even longer than the previous, and it's a bit hectic. Hope it makes sense in the end...lots of memories and thoughts flying everywhere.**

* * *

**Chapter 35: The Sleeper Awakens**

Caleb placed his palms flat against the tiled wall, bracing himself as he bowed his head, letting the hot water stream down his neck and back. Despite the fact that the only light in the room entered through the barely-open door, he still felt the need to close his eyes.

The adrenaline rush of his encounter had passed, and now he just felt like an asshole. Not to mention completely moronic. He also still had that lingering thrill comparable to quitting a shit job now that he had gotten everything off his chest, but that was mostly gone as well. After all, what had finally confession accomplished? He had added even more tension to his relationship with Jackson at a time better served for...well...not creating _more_ problems.

He could only imagine how the others felt about him now. Jackson was the easiest to figure out- he was likely betrayed, angry, hurt, and a myriad of other negativity. But even though Caleb regretted the way in which he had told his brother, he definitely didn't regret telling him. Jackson had a right to know, really. And it wasn't like things had been great between them before- it was just another issue thrown between them. But this could likely be the final nail. Neither Jackson nor Caleb were men who tended to forgive and forget.

Would Lisa be able to trust him again? When it came down to it, Caleb just didn't know much about her. She had hardly spoken of any kind of past other than her scar- most of their discussions remained in the present, with hints of future thrown in. With everything that was happening to her, it was a toss up as to whether she'd roll with it like she had everything else, or close herself off to him. But based on her behavior after his confession, it seemed to him that she was in the former category, so he wasn't as worried about her. Even if she did reject him for it, naturally it wouldn't bother him as much as Jackson or Ben doing so.

And Ben...well, Ben was more of an enigma. Caleb had been thrown off when Ben had expressed hurt over being ignored so many years ago. Normally, he would have anticipated the bitterness- and he had, really- but until that point, it had seemed that Ben had dealt with his leaving, just like he had every other shitty thing that had happened in his life. It had almost seemed like they had picked up where they had left off, but now...Caleb wasn't sure.

His musings were interrupted when he heard the main door opening, and he groaned in frustration. He had stayed in Ben's room because he knew that the other man was picking up Nikita and the trainees, and getting them sorted- Caleb could actually be alone here. He had doubted that Jackson would come back for him, and assumed that Lisa would go back to their room if she didn't stay with Jackson, so who the hell was there?

"You know, what's the point of having my own room if I _never_ get to be alone in here?" Caleb shook his head, a small smile on his lips as he heard Ben come into the room.

"What are you even doing here?" he asked, confused. "Did you decide to abandon them?"

"If I wanted to be Jackson's bitch, I'd have become a courier," came the reply. "I sent Jeff instead. And, I figured that you'd be wallowing around in self-pity-" _Give the man a prize..._ "-so I decided to pull you out of it." Caleb shook his head lightly. Fantastic. But he definitely could have worse company. "Nice mood lighting."

Caleb groaned again when the bathroom light was switched on, the skin of his eyelids now a piercing red. Granted, his hangover wasn't as bad as he would have expected, but he still had a massive headache. He stood straight up as the shower curtain was pulled back and he came face to face with Ben.

"Christ, you're naked," the taller man announced, averting his gaze in mock disgust while throwing a towel at Caleb. Caleb quickly turned off the shower and began to dry himself, chuckling lightly.

"I tend to do that while _showering_," he replied good-naturedly. He was well aware that Ben couldn't care less, but it was still fun to play the game. "Sorry if my stunning physique offended your sensibilities." Ben scoffed, sitting on the counter.

"Oh please," he countered. "You're no Jackson." He grinned. "It's probably that shitty hack ink more than anything else." Caleb glanced down at his chest, staring at his tribal scorpion tattoo. It was years-old, and he had mostly forgotten it was even there. It had noticeably faded over the years, and the edges were a little smudgy, but that didn't really bother him.

"I don't know," he replied, wrapping the towel around his waist. "I've always liked it." He smiled absently, remembering the day he had gotten it. It all started with Ben coming in his room and asking a supposedly simple question: "Can I tattoo you?" Ben had recently purchased the supplies, and wanted to test out his skills. A few drinks later, Caleb found the courage to grant him permission. Happily, he had been satisfied with the results.

Caleb remained silent. Ben was talking again, but he wasn't listening. It was funny how something as insignificant as an old tattoo can make a person recall things they hadn't thought about in years. He was remembering the first few months that he had known Ben, when they were still teenagers. They had gotten along somewhat well, much better than Ben and Jackson had, but weren't really friends.

Ben had been so reckless, always causing trouble. He claimed to do it for the fun of it, and Caleb hadn't understood why he even bothered going to college. And it wasn't minor things like pulling fire alarms- he had pulled cons, broken into cars. The brothers probably should have turned him in, but they hadn't, and looking back on it, Caleb wasn't even sure why. Maybe he was apathetic about it, maybe he saw something in Ben that told him he could be helped- he didn't remember.

Then Thanksgiving break came, and while their roommate went home for those few days, Ben and the twins had opted to stay in the dorm. During a night of drinking, Caleb had confessed to Ben that they weren't going home because they really didn't have one. He had told him what had happened with their parents, and about their uncle who was a guardian only in the legal definition of the word.

In return, Ben had told Caleb that he didn't have a home, either. His father had been killed many years ago, and his mother had moved back to Russia when he was 15. He hadn't wanted to leave, and so he had run away and had spent the last few years in the foster system, leaving his last home to come to school.

Caleb had quickly realized that what Ben was really saying was that he had no one. He didn't have his parents, his two sisters had gone to Russia with his mother (as far as he knew), and the foster parents he had stayed with were the kind who were in it for the checks- the ones who actually wanted a bond wanted nothing to do with Ben and his behavior. Caleb couldn't remember the exact words he had said anymore, but eventually he had basically challenged Ben. He wasn't easily scared away, and he had told the other man that there was nothing he could tell him or do- within reason- that would make him back down.

That had been the start of their friendship, really. And it had evolved over the years from being his friend's main confidant to Ben asking to tattoo him and giving him a lap dance just to see how far he could push him. And Caleb had yet to back down from any of it.

To him, that amateur scorpion was symbolic of their relationship, and as it faded and blurred, he had forgotten about it...

Caleb looked back up, making eye contact with Ben, who was staring at him quizzically. "You back now?" Ben asked, amused. "You've been standing there for fifteen minutes." He burst out laughing at Caleb's obvious surprise, shaking his head. "Nah, it wasn't even a minute, probably."

Caleb closed his eyes again, pressing his palm to his forehead at the loud noise. "Yeah, I thought you'd need some help with that, too," Ben said as Caleb sat on the edge of the bathtub. "I brought you a present." Caleb opened his eyes to see a thermos on the counter next to Ben, and couldn't keep from chuckling when the other man pulled an egg from his hoodie. _Of all the places to keep that..._

Setting the egg on the counter, Ben poured the contents of the thermos, which Caleb could now identify as orange juice, into a nearby glass._ Oh goddamn it..._a Bull's Eye. He cringed, propping his chin in his hand and watching as Ben dropped the raw egg into the juice, tossing the shell aside. He then covered the opening of the glass with his hand and shook vigorously, mixing the drink before passing the glass to Caleb.

Caleb stared at the drink in distaste. Of all the common foods, he hated eggs the most. Since Ben had introduced him to this remedy years ago, he already knew that he wouldn't be able to taste the egg, but knowing it was there created a whole different kind of nausea.

"Come on, don't hurt my feelings," Ben said, managing to pull off a sulk despite his amusement. "I squeezed that juice just for you. Oh, and look-" he continued, fishing a pair of red wayfarers out of his pocket, "-more presents." He jumped from the counter and leaned forward, putting the sunglasses on Caleb's face.

Caleb smiled again, tipping his head back to down the drink all at once. It was amazing how even after all those years apart, Ben could still make him feel better so quickly. He handed the empty glass back to his friend, unable to suppress a gag. "Thanks," he muttered, adjusting the sunglasses. "So what now, self-appointed babysitter?" he asked, looking up again.

Ben sat on the counter again, pulling his knees close to rest the arches of his feet on the edge. He looked like an awkward bird. "Well, I figured we would go back to your room and clean up some of that mess." He eyed Caleb, his smile fading. "Wouldn't want the maid thinking there was some kind of domestic dispute or anything..."

Caleb cleared his throat and stared at the floor again, unsure of how to respond to that. "Yeah," he finally replied, his voice hushed, "that's a good idea." He gathered his clothes from the floor, quickly dressing. It was odd- Ben definitely had taken a dig at him, but he didn't actually see or hear real _judgement_ coming from him.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he finally asked after turning to face Ben again. The other man furrowed his eyebrows.

"Like what?" he asked, confused. Caleb hung the towel on its rack and sat down next to his friend.

"Like you always do," he replied. "Jackson looked at me like I was some kind of stranger, and Lisa was giving me all that pity..." He trailed off, not really sure what he was getting at. He just found it...strange?...that Ben's facial expression hadn't changed much.

"How am I supposed to be looking at you?" Ben asked, propping his elbows on his knees and crossing his arms. "Which part was supposed to shock or surprise or disgust me?" Caleb shot him a pointed look- the taller man knew damn well- and Ben nodded in concession. "Yeah, well, it didn't. I already knew all that."

Caleb's jaw dropped slightly. _How_? How could Ben figure it out when no one else had? Even his brother and wife hadn't seen it. "I have eyes, and they work," Ben explained, seemingly reading his mind, "and I don't have some idea of who you are...you just are who you are."

Caleb continued to remain silent, rubbing the back of his neck. He supposed it made sense in a way. It was no secret that Jackson didn't really see him for who he was, at least to him. Not that it was Jackson's fault...Caleb had learned over the years to allow people to see only what he wanted them to see. It wasn't foolproof, obviously, but for the most part, it had kept him relatively safe.

"And I suppose you knew that I would come back?" he asked, unable to hide slight bitterness in his voice. He wasn't used to people seeing through him...it was unnerving. Ben shook his head, jumping down from the counter.

"No, I really thought you were done," he replied, walking out of the bathroom. Caleb quickly followed him out into the hallway. "I mean, I knew that you enjoyed the work more than you wanted to admit, and I knew you hated yourself for it, so I figured that when you left, it was for the best. For you."

Caleb followed Ben into the elevator, leaning against the wall. He still didn't know quite what to say. Ben was balancing on the edge of calm detachment and an underlying bitterness- he was under control, but every once in awhile, a small jab would break out. He knew that it was intentional- Ben was always well aware of the words coming from his mouth.

"Was I pissed that you left like everyone else important to me?" Ben continued as the elevator rose. "Yeah, but you have to just fucking deal sometimes, you know?" He shrugged, not making eye contact with Caleb, who for his part, was feeling smaller and smaller. He really hated being reminded of how much he hurt everyone when he left. "I knew you had to get away from it, and besides, nothing lasts. Relationships, I mean. They fall apart or grow, and even then, eventually they're over..."

Caleb still remained silent, withdrawing deeper into himself. It was odd. Despite his problems with Jackson, the two had still managed to at least speak to each other throughout the years. They were able to hold onto their bond, managing to salvage it minimally. Not Ben. The only time they had spoken since Caleb left that apartment was at the wedding, and after that, not one word was exchanged until the night at the King of Diamonds.

They had been best friends, and even that title didn't really describe their relationship, and Caleb had to shut him out completely. He knew that speaking to Ben would draw him right back into the world he couldn't be part of anymore. He would never be able to explain it- it was just something he had known inherently. That definitely didn't mean that Ben was more important than Jackson- after all, Caleb didn't think he could ever handle having his brother completely out of his life. It meant that he would rather not have Ben at all than have a half-assed phone-based relationship with him.

As the two men exited the elevator, Ben was eyeing Caleb skeptically. "How am I supposed to pull you out of this if you don't say anything?" he asked, and Caleb laughed dryly. He wondered if this was how Jackson felt around Lisa. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk to Ben...but he knew that once he started, everything would come out, and he just wasn't comfortable sharing _all_ of himself with anyone. His darkest secrets were his own.

"I never asked you to, did I?" he replied, stopping at his hotel door. Ben raised his eyebrows, seemingly deflecting Caleb's brush off.

"Alright, if that's how we're going to play it..." He leaned forward. "I'm daring you to talk to me."

_Motherfucker_. "Not funny," Caleb snapped, unlocking his hotel room door. This wasn't some kind of game, for God's sake. He shut the door behind him, but Ben caught it, following him into the room.

"Am I laughing?" Ben replied. Caleb tossed his key card onto a nearby table and dropped onto the bed. The drink had yet to take effect, and this wasn't helping. Ben stood in front of him, staring down. "I'm dead serious. What you did was completely fucked up, and I want to...help, but you kind of need to talk to me for that to happen."

Caleb gazed up at Ben, glad for the small amount of protection provided by the sunglasses. "Why do you suddenly want to know?" he asked honestly. "What happened to 'it's not my business' and 'let's not get into that heavy shit'?"

Ben shrugged. "I thought you could handle it yourself," he replied simply, "and I was wrong, so now it's my business because you're my friend." He sat on the floor, resting his back on the bureau. "I know you like to keep these things to yourself...you're scared that I'm going to judge you or decide that I don't want to hear it, and I'm telling you, that's not going to happen. And I'm not trying to just tell you what to do. I have some idea of why it happened, but I'd rather hear it from you."

Caleb studied the younger man intensely for a few moments, trying to decide if he meant what he said. He thought back to the previous night, his yearning for someone to confide in...was Ben that person? But he couldn't...if he opened up to Ben, what then? He was _leaving_ after this was over. To really let someone else in only to leave them immediately...

No. Caleb couldn't do that. And that was why he couldn't confide in Jackson or even Lisa, not that he was remotely close enough to her to know where to begin. Within the next week, they would all be out of his life again for the most part. And Caleb would be back in his "normal" life...alone.

"What are you going to do now that your team's dead?" he found himself blurting out, surprising himself. A flicker of disappointment crossed Ben's face, and he scratched his jawline.

"I guess I'll go back to New York if Jackson lets me back on his team," he replied, not commenting on the subject change. "I'm pretty sure he will...I mean, if we don't all get killed by Keefe or hunted down for killing Marie." He shrugged. "If I wasn't needed here, I'd probably just go to Oklahoma and kill the bitch myself, and then disappear. But that's not really an option."

Caleb did a double take at the confession. "Why would you do that?" he asked, surprised. He wasn't aware Ben had any desire to quit working for the agency.

"Why should Jackson lose everything because of my secrets and my fuck up with her?" Ben asked. "If I would have kept my damn mouth shut about the Chechens, she probably wouldn't be so apt to have me killed, and this wouldn't be happening." Caleb shrugged, sliding to the floor, his back against the bed.

"It probably would have happened eventually," he replied. "Jackson wouldn't go to all that trouble just because..." he trailed off. Of course Jackson would put everything on the line for Ben. They had their differences, but Jackson was a fiercely loyal man when it came down to it. The other reasons were a convenience, with the hit on Ben being the proverbial straw, but he could imagine Jackson never entertaining the idea until one of his friends was at risk. "But it will work itself out. Everyone knows how Marie is, so you can easily explain it."

Ben nodded. "Probably," he responded. "As long as we're given the chance." He laughed softly. "It's going to be a fucking mess for a while...the CIA might actually have to get involved. I don't think that's ever happened before. But yeah, I'll probably end up in New York. Why?" He eyed Caleb suspiciously. "You want to come?"

_Maybe_. Caleb shook his head. "No," he replied. "I keep telling Jackson I'm done after this, and-"

"So you're trying to save face," Ben finished, his tone still calm, as though he were just stating a fact. "You don't want to admit that you made a mistake walking out."

Caleb narrowed his eyes. "I never said that," he replied forcefully. What part of 'I hated myself that way' and 'I want to help people' didn't Ben understand?

"No, but that doesn't make it any less true," Ben replied. "As far as I can see, you only hated that you liked it. But you never really hated the job, did you?" Caleb said nothing, clenching his teeth. He knew where this was going. The only thing keeping him from putting an end to the discussion was the lack of accusation in Ben's tone. No, Ben sounded more curious than anything else, and Caleb knew that vehemently contradicting him would only lead to convincing Ben that he was right.

"No, you didn't really hate it, because you never so much as gave me, Jamie, Rick, Cheryl a judgemental look, let alone actually scorned us for what we do. And we all enjoyed it." Ben tilted his head, looking as though he were trying to solve some logic puzzle. "But you hold yourself to some double standard- it's not okay for you to enjoy it...why?"

Caleb stared at Ben in disbelief. "Because I don't want to like it," he replied, exasperated. He was tired of repeating himself. "I shouldn't enjoy making people suffer, even if-"

"People are suffering anyway," Ben interrupted, that same calm tone back. "And I don't mean that in a 'he's going to die eventually, so run him the fuck down in your SUV' kind of way. There's always someone suffering at the hands of someone else. And if you can help that person- why the fuck shouldn't you enjoy it? Because society says 'killing is wrong'?" His voice began to rise, and he pulled himself to his feet. "I don't get it, man. Since when..." He paused, his eyebrows furrowed. "Since when do you care what everyone else thinks?"

Caleb frowned, watching Ben get more and more upset. He wanted his friend to calm down, but he didn't have the heart to interrupt him at this point. Well, really, he didn't know what he should be doing. This kind of behavior was just unprecedented. Ben had always gone out of his way to keep things light, and when things got too serious, his main motto was 'put it past you and move on'. He didn't remember the last time he had actually seen Ben getting so distressed.

"That's just not who you are," Ben continued, sounding more confident and at the same time, more confused. "I mean, you _came back_. And don't tell me you came back because Jackson needed help. If you really didn't want to get back into this, you wouldn't have. You put yourself first." Any other time, Caleb would have taken offense to this last statement, and argued it wasn't true, but Ben was still simply stating it as a fact. And Caleb knew that he was right- in the last few years especially, he usually did put his own wants and needs first. He himself had told Lisa as much.

Ben dropped back down, dragging his hand across his forehead. "So what's going on? This is part of who you are...you're a killer and a manipulator-."

Caleb slid his fingers under the sunglasses, rubbing his closed eyes. "But I don't _want_ to be," he repeated. What Ben said made sense on the surface, but it just wasn't that simple. It wasn't just that he clung to his old world, where killing was just wrong...Ben was right- Caleb didn't care that any of his friends did it, or even enjoyed it, but it wasn't for him.

"So?" Ben asked. "You tried doing something else, and it didn't work. You're drawn to this, and you know it. If you just keep denying who you are, all you do is hurt yourself...well, and other people, but we're all adults. What's important is what it does to _you_."

Caleb shrugged. He didn't want to talk about it anymore. Ben was set in his opinion, and trying to explain his own side of things just took them in circles. Besides, it wasn't as though he was unaware that he was hurting himself...but he had been doing so while in the agency as well. Reverting right back to his old self wouldn't solve his problems, either.

"Alright," Ben finally said, getting to his feet again. "Let's get you something to eat." Caleb watched his friend head toward the phone and order a breakfast- hashbrowns, bacon, toast, and eggs over easy. He knew the eggs were for Ben, so he said nothing. This was yet another old routine for them- he didn't know how many times Ben had made him breakfast when he was hungover...it was his comfort food. And Ben had always argued that breakfast wasn't complete without eggs, so he had ended up making and eating them himself.

"While we wait, how about a little bet?" Ben asked, going through Caleb's bag. The shorter man turned to face him knowingly. He knew the bet, but not the wager. After a few seconds of searching, Ben pulled out two Colts and set them on a nearby table. "Field strip and reassemble," he reminded Caleb, who just nodded. He was fairly sure he knew what was coming next. "If I win, you come to New York...if you win, you keep trying to be...normal."

Caleb scoffed. While he was undefeated in this contest, the last time he had participated was years ago. He smiled faintly, remembering Ben having to drink that odd concoction of pickle, jalapeno, and grape juices mixed with vanilla hazelnut coffee creamer, some maple syrup, and two alka seltzer tablets. But this was different. The wager wasn't just some throwaway, and Caleb wasn't nearly as experienced as he used to be.

"Fuck that," he replied. "I've hardly touched those guns in years, and I'm hungover. Do you think I'm that stupid?" Ben grinned knowingly, bracing himself on one of the chairs.

"I think you won't be able to resist," he replied. "You have a title to defend and refusing to participate is as good as a loss in your head. It's that Rippner pride of yours." When Caleb didn't move, Ben walked over to the mini bar. "If it makes you feel better, I can finish what's left of the whiskey first."

Caleb pulled himself to his feet. He could only imagine what Jackson would say if Ben got drunk hours before they went for Keefe. "I don't think that's a good- stop," he interrupted himself, pulling the bottle away from Ben. He inhaled deeply, eyeing the two guns on the table. "Alright," he finally said, his confidence quickly growing. "But when I still beat you...I'm writing 'Caleb's bitch' on your hoodie."

Ben laughed. "Deal," he replied. "But I think my hoodie will be Sharpie-free, personally." The two men sat at either side of the table, staring at the guns. Caleb wouldn't admit it, but part of him did want to go back to New York and rejoin his friends. At the same time, he knew it wouldn't be the best idea, so why not leave it up to something so simple?

"You going to keep the sunglasses on?" he heard Ben asked, and grinned up at him.

"I think I'll be fine with them on," he replied cockily, provoking another smirk from his friend. The two men stared at each other, the anticipation growing until it became almost unbearable. Caleb finally gave a go-ahead nod, and they were off. He ejected the magazine from the Colt and set it down on the table, turning the gun on its side and pulling back the slide to eject the remaining round from the chamber.

Catching it in his hand, Caleb began to rotate the barrel bushing, releasing the plunger tube and spring. He didn't even have to think about it- it was like he and the gun had never been apart. Instead, fragments of memories came flying back to him rapid-fire as he removed the slide stock and frame. He remembered the afternoon Ben had challenged him to a fencing duel, and how Jackson had barely acknowledged them flying around the apartment, pawn shop swords clashing. He remembered the sleepless nights with his brother and the rest of his friends, planning jobs, executing jobs, working together in seamless unity.

Caleb remembered the game nights, the bad movie nights, and the mornings after the heavy drinking, when they were often woken by Ben's loud music, when they were miserable but still comfortable- when Jackson was happier. When _he_ was happier on those occasions that he allowed himself to be. He remembered their first Thanksgiving together, full of burned food and screaming arguments until they had given up and gone to a deli for turkey sandwiches. And their second, with better food and a group of strippers- exotic dancers- that Ben had invited. Memories that were mundane, but had defined Caleb for those years.

He barely registered the clicking noises and the metal on metal as he removed the barrel from the Colt and set the remaining piece on the table, only to pick it right back up again and begin to reassemble. This was second-nature...there were more important things on his mind.

Caleb could tell himself that he was only suffering from nostalgia. He could pretend that he was only considering staying because he was in it and not thinking clearly. He could claim that he didn't know whether he was missing it now because of his close proximity to Jackson and Ben or because really, he had always missed it.

He could tell himself many things, but that didn't make any of it true. Finally, the two almost-simultaneous thuds registered in his brain as he and Ben slammed their reassembled weapons on the table. As Caleb made eye contact with his friend, he knew they both realized that Caleb's gun had hit first. He had won...

Ben gave Caleb a sad smile. "Guess it's back to the hospital, right?" he asked softly. Caleb returned the gesture, and shook his head. His hand trembled as he slowly held it up over the table, opening his palm to reveal the round that had come from the chamber. He hadn't put it back in the magazine before loading the gun.

"Guess not," he replied, his voice shaking slightly from the adrenaline. He could claim that palming the round was a subconscious move, but he had known what he was doing. He had willingly chosen the less safe option- he wanted to come back.

Ben's face registered shock before dissolving into a knowing grin. "You sly bastard," he noted approvingly. Caleb tipped his palm, letting the round bounce onto the table with a sharp pinging noise. He could have legitimately let Ben win, but he knew that if he had done so, he would have been too tempted to use it as an excuse to walk out again. He wasn't being forced back in because of his pride- he chose this.

"But I'm not leaving right away," he explained quickly before Ben could erupt into making plans. "It'll probably take two or three months to sell the house, and I only have six months left in residency...I want to finish it." As far as Caleb was concerned, there was no room for argument on this point. It wasn't that he wanted to finish because he wanted a back up plan...he had to finish it because he just had to. For all the years it had taken and all the grief it had caused, he couldn't leave it unfinished.

Ben only nodded, as though he had been expecting to hear that. "Do you want me to come with you?" he offered. "Help pack and shit?" Caleb nodded. He had to admit that he was surprised at how right this felt. He knew it wouldn't be a smooth transition and that he would have several moments of doubt, but he was starting to feel...alive again. Ben was right. He _had_ tried doing something else, and it hadn't worked. Caleb had his pride, but he wasn't above admitting when something just wasn't working.

"Of course," Caleb replied, unable to wipe the grin from his face. It wasn't like he would be able to tell him 'no' even if he wanted to- Ben wasn't _asking_ to come. He was telling him that he was. The questioning tone was just for appearances.

Ben rose from his chair with a cheeky wink, gathering the two guns and putting them back in the bag. Caleb shook his head. Sometimes they read each other as well as even he and Jackson could. It was almost as though words themselves were a formality, a habit to help those around them follow the conversation.

When Ben turned around again, Caleb's smile faltered slightly. He knew that by the expectant look in Ben's eye that their previous conversation wasn't finished- he wasn't off the hook. He debated playing dumb and making the other man ask again, but it didn't seem fair.

"It's stupid," he admitted, his gaze dropping to the table. "My reasons, I mean. I know they're stupid, but I can't really stop thinking them." Ben said nothing, sitting on the edge of the bed. Caleb didn't even turn to look at him, staring at the table top. He hesitated, before repeating to himself Ben's promise that he wouldn't judge him for whatever he was about to say. Someone like Ben wouldn't make that kind of promise lightly, and Caleb knew that he would hold to his word.

"It's simple, really," he continued, and knew that he was just wasting time to prolong the embarrassing confession. "As are most stupid things. They're too simple, and that's what makes them so flawed, but so...strong. It's hard to talk yourself out of it." He furrowed his eyebrows, focusing intently on a chip in the wood table that had suddenly become fascinating. He knew that Ben would stay quiet. He didn't have to worry about a 'well?' or 'and what is it?'...he could probably avoid talking about it for hours if he really wanted to.

"I just don't want to be him," he finally explained, his voice soft with humiliation. He knew he should be smarter than that. He removed the sunglasses, pressing his palms together and burying his face into the space they created. "That's it," he continued as his fingers slowly slid down his face, revealing his eyes. "That's why I hate how much I enjoy hurting people...I think he enjoyed it, too."

He closed his eyes when he heard Ben sigh. He _knew_ Ben had promised, but there was still an irrational fear that he was about to be told just how ridiculous his concern was.

"We're all our dads in some way," Ben finally said. "Whether we like it or not. The only way to get out of it is to be the complete opposite-"

"-and then they're influencing your behavior just as much," Caleb finished knowingly, remember what he had said to Lisa back in Minnesota.

"Exactly. You just have to accept that there is some of him in you and move on. You and Jackson both have to get over it." Caleb dropped his hands on the table, his hands still clasped together. He was sure that there was no one else who could have said those words to him without provoking some kind of fight. Ben and he were close enough that the other man could get away with quite a bit. It did sting somewhat, and he didn't really have much of a reply. Ben wasn't telling him anything he didn't already know...but maybe things he hadn't finished putting together yet.

"Otherwise, you'll be 'My dad beat the shit out of my mom until my brother murdered him and then she disappeared so I'm going to hate the world and pretend to be someone I'm not' forever.' And if you do that, I can be 'My dad was murdered by the mafia based on a bad tip and my uncle drove my mom into self-deportation-'"

"I get it," Caleb interrupted, a slight edge to his words. "You've had it harder, and you got over it, so why can't I, right?" Surprisingly, Ben just laughed softly.

"Well, I wasn't trying to get into a pissing contest about whose life is shittier, but in so many words, I guess..." He paused. "No, I'm not saying that what you went through is some simple thing you can get over, and I'm definitely not saying that my life sucked more. That would be stupid. I'm saying that it's possible to get over it if you accept that it happened."

"You think I'm pretending it didn't happen?" Caleb asked, confused. He wasn't irritated with Ben- he was frustrated with himself. Why did it bother him so much? On the surface, he knew how ridiculous he was being. He knew that he wasn't James, but that didn't change anything.

"No, I think you're both pretending that it didn't get to you," Ben explained. "When you told me about it, you've always had a very...'whatever' tone about the whole thing. Very matter-of-fact." Caleb heard him move, and lifted his head as Ben sat down in his chair again. "If you act like it didn't bother you, then you won't be able to accept that it did have an effect. There's nothing wrong with admitting that you're hurt." He leaned forward slightly, his voice quieting. "Did you ever cry about it?"

Caleb's posture straightened. Had he? He didn't even remember...he remembered sitting in the police station in fear and pure disbelief, numbly sitting in the courtroom listening to Jackson give his testimony, having to avert his eyes as his mother was taken to prison...he didn't remember crying. And it wasn't as though Caleb thought of himself as too manly to cry. He had done so many more times than Jackson over the years. But... "No," he finally admitted. "I don't think I did." He opened his mouth to justify it, but remained silent instead. There was no point.

Ben nodded, his facial expression unchanging. "I did," he replied. "Not at the time, though. I wouldn't let myself. I couldn't take the time to be upset about any of it because I was afraid that if I did, I couldn't keep going." He raised his eyebrows, as though he were asking Caleb if that sounded familiar. And it did. A few moments passed in silence until Caleb looked at his friend again. He hadn't sounded finished before, and sure enough, it looked like there was something else on his mind.

Caleb dropped his face onto his arms with a groan. He knew what Ben wasn't bringing up- Cheryl. "Why is it so hard to believe that I'm not that hurt by what she did?" he asked, squeezing his eyes shut again. He knew how unbelievable it sounded, but he just _wasn't_. She _hadn't_ hurt him.

The touch of Ben's fingers on his made Caleb's head jolt up. He yanked his hands away, pulling them close to his chest. "Yeah, I have _no idea_ where I got that idea," Ben replied, still staring at his hands. Caleb quickly hid his right hand behind his left, covering the ring.

"It's not like that," he insisted, a blush rising to his cheeks. Come to think of it, he didn't even really remember why he was wearing it. He twisted the ring off his pinkie finger and tossed it on the table, watching it bounce before Ben caught it. "It's nothing. Just like her, just like my marriage. Nothing." He brought his palm up to his temple, pushing roughly against his returning headache.

"It's a gorgeous ring," Ben murmured as he held it up, and Caleb clenched his teeth. He knew what the other man was up to, and he refused to play _that_ game. "Did you go through the store, imagining each one on her finger and her face when you offered it, or did you know right away which one was 'the one'?"

_I knew right away_. Caleb shook his head, pressing his palm even harder into his skin. "Stop," he whispered harshly. The only breaking point he was about to be pushed to was the door- this wound was too fresh to pick at.

"Then don't fucking lie to me," Ben replied evenly, tossing the ring aside. "Or yourself."

"Look..." Caleb began, his voice cold. Ben had made a serious misstep, and he had to let him know this wasn't any kind of joke. "...you want to talk to me about my dad or my brother or any of that? Fine- we can talk about them. But leave her out of it or we're done here. I've said all I wanted to say about her, alright?"

Ben nodded, looking apologetic. "You're right," he admitted. "Too soon, yeah?"

Caleb released his head, waving his hand dismissively as he turned away. _Don't apologize- just fix it_. "I get what you're trying to say," he explained. "But right now, I need to be jaded about her, so don't try to convince me I'm not." He could tell that Ben wanted to reply, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.

"You know what you need?" Ben began again, and Caleb snorted in amusement as he shook his head. He could tell just by Ben's tone that he was about to go off on a random tangent. Sometimes, that man couldn't stay focused to save his life.

"When we go to Minnesota, we should go to a strip club...you have those there, right?" Caleb nodded, laughing harder than he intended to. It was random, and completely asinine, but God, the small moment of levity it gave him felt fantastic. "We can go to one and watch the pasty Scandinavians take off their parkas. Hot."

Caleb continued to laugh. "I'm sure they're lovely ladies," he assured Ben, "But what's the point?" He flashed a wicked grin at his friend. "They'll never top you." He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "You know...no matter how deep you try to be, you will always be the man who did a drunken striptease on our coffee table."

He saw Ben's eyes light up in amusement, but the man somehow kept his face perfectly deadpan as he nodded, leaning forward again. "And you will always be the man who shoved money in my briefs," he replied, his tone laced with teasing. Caleb nodded in remembrance, leaning back in his chair. He grinned again- he could almost feel the bass of that insipid Nelly song, the cheers of his roommates ringing in his ears, the hilarious exaggerated lust all over Ben's face...

"But you'll have to take what you can get now," Ben continued, commanding Caleb's attention again. "I don't hand those out to just _anyone_ anymore...I'm a serious adult now. I watch the news and everything. I need to be in a relationship or I'll feel so used."

"Yeah, you're all grown up," Caleb replied casually, restraining his laughter. If Ben could do it, so could he. "So if we were in a relationship, I'd get an _exclusive_ dance?"

Ben nodded. "And if you put a ring on it, you might get a few more lap dances."

Another grin broke out across Caleb's face. "God, I will never forget the look on Jackson's face," he recalled, traces of laughter in his voice. One of Ben's goals back then was to get _some_ reaction out of his brother- especially laughter- and once Jackson had caught on, he pulled a poker face like Caleb had never seen before. But the sight of Ben grinding on Caleb while "Don't Cha" blasted had earned Ben a slightly dropped jaw and stunned eyes before Jackson had managed to regroup. And Caleb had always been more than happy to play along- he liked seeing his brother happy, too. "It's a deal. But I get dances whenever I want."

Caleb knew that more often than not, his relationship with Ben was unorthodox at best, but living in that apartment with the other four had felt like existing in a different world and playing with a completely different set of rules. They really had no boundaries. It had never really occurred to him to care or question it- it was what it was, and it was comfortable.

Ben clasped his hands with mock enthusiasm. "It's the happiest day of my life," he replied, and then scowled, dropping his palms onto the table. "Hey- what do you mean, I 'try' to be deep? I am deep when I want to be."

Caleb tilted his head back, biting his lip to keep from laughing again. "You just caught that?" he asked, shaking his head.

"I'm a goddamn _poet_," Ben insisted, which just egged Caleb further on. "Oh, you need me to prove it? Alright," he continued dramatically, without waiting for a response. "Check _this_ shit out: Think of your inner turmoil as a raging wildfire. Attempts to douse the flames with water- denial- are in vain, as the destruction is too determined."

Caleb propped his elbow on the table, resting his cheek in the palm of his hand. He was a little disappointed by the fact that they were headed back into this conversation, but it felt more comfortable now. It was odd, but he felt more confident that he could work through his issues than he had even ten minutes before.

"So instead, fuel the flames. Accept your rage, your pain, integrate them, and cause a flash fire. Burn the motherfucker to the ground. It will hurt like a bitch, but that's when the best plants grow." Ben grinned triumphantly, crossing his arms.

Caleb shook his head slowly. "'Burn the motherfucker to the ground'," he repeated. "Dylan Thomas himself couldn't have put it better." Ben scoffed. "But I don't think firefighters would agree with that advice."

"Oh shut up," Ben replied, unphased. "It's solid." The two men broke, laughing loudly until they were interrupted by a knock at the door.

After Caleb had accepted the room service and tipped Anna, Ben took the tray from his hand and settled on the floor near the bed, waiting for Caleb to follow him.

"Tell me the truth," Caleb finally began again, salting the hashbrowns, "What _really_ brought all this on?" Ben hesitated before taking a bite of eggs, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. "Weren't you the one who got pissed at Lisa for dragging Jackson's secrets from him? And all poetry aside, we're not exactly known for having deep talks."

"Oh," the other man replied, catching on. "This is totally different. First of all- I know you. I know how hard I can push and when to leave you alone. Two- I didn't come in here with some plan about how I want you to see things. I'm actually listening to you and reacting instead of trying to make you fit _my_ thoughts." Caleb took a bite of his hashbrowns, deciding not to bring up the fact that he really hadn't said much- Ben was doing most of the talking, as usual. But that didn't mean that he was _wrong_ about what he was saying. "But mostly..." Ben shrugged, staring at his fork. "You helped me. And if I can repay the favor, awesome."

"Don't be so dramatic," Caleb replied good-naturedly. "You did most of the work yourself...I didn't even say much, if I recall."

"Do you ever?" Ben retorted, chuckling as he took another bite. "No, but remember when you said that by letting myself being bitter about things, I was giving into everyone who's fucked with me?"

Caleb narrowed his eyes, trying to remember a decade back. "Vaguely," he replied. "What's your point?"

"My point is that it always stuck with me," Ben replied. "My thing is trying to find a balance between letting things roll off my back without pretending it never happened, and that's pretty much down to you. So I figure if I talk enough, maybe I'll say something that will help you."

Caleb nodded, taking a bite of bacon. "It has, I think," he replied. "Maybe you're right...I think you are, anyway. About my parents, I mean. I _have_ rationalized it, I know, and it already occurred to me that I'm not as past it all as I thought I was." He frowned. "The problem is that I _know_ I know better than to let it get to me like this."

"You know, it's no crime to have weaknesses," Ben pointed out. "Yeah, you know that you're not like your dad. Obviously, I didn't know the guy, but he sounds like he was an asshole who fought his own insecurity by hurting weaker people. And that's never been you. Just because you know it in your head doesn't mean that you aren't afraid of it."

Caleb shook his head. "Convenient amnesia," he replied dryly, "because that sounds exactly like what happened last night."

Ben sighed heavily, dropping his fork on the plate. "Alright, this is one time I'm going to tell you to shut the fuck up," he snapped. "You had a _moment_. It was horrible, but you know what? We've all been there." He paused, and Caleb also set his fork on the plate, feeling himself start closing off again. 'Everyone does it' had never seemed like an acceptable excuse to him.

"I hit Jamie once," Ben admitted matter-of-factly, pulling Caleb right out of his brewing frustration. Despite his best efforts to remain neutral, he knew that the shock was obvious on his face. "Right before I was sent to Robert's team. I lost it, and it wasn't a one-off. I have no idea how badly I would have hurt her if Jackson didn't step in...and by 'step in', I mean break my nose."

"_Why_?" Caleb asked, completely caught off guard. He had never heard anything about this- Jackson had mentioned once that Ben and Jamie split, but never gave him details. The guilt came creeping back into Caleb's brain- he should have called Ben when he found out. He should have been there for him.

Ben shook his head again. "I'll tell you sometime," he replied. "Not now though- it's not the point. The point is that she definitely didn't deserve it. I was angry at her and at myself, and I took it out on her. But I'm not your dad, am I?"

Caleb shifted uncomfortably. He was stunned by this revelation, but really, it didn't change how he saw Ben. Without knowing the details, it was impossible for him to imagine his friend doing something like that. And that was likely exactly what Ben had meant- a moment of inexcusable behavior didn't _define_ a person. Mistakes were one thing, but it was really patterns that showed character. That, and how the person responds to their mistake.

"Even Jackson has had moments like that, I'm sure," Ben continued. "Honestly, I never understood what he was thinking when he went after Lisa...I mean, I don't know _all_ the details, but there was really no reason for him to be at her house in the first place. I can only imagine he wasn't thinking clearly..."

Caleb nodded. "I never really got a straight answer from him about that," he conceded, "but I got the same impression. And he did a number on her- I saw the bruises." He was about to add that Lisa did more damage, but he was interrupted by the door opening and the woman in question walking in.

"Speak of the devil's sister," Ben greeted as he turned his head to look at her, his tone light again. "Maybe you can help us, Lisa Lee."

Caleb immediately averted his eyes from the woman standing in the doorway. She had assured him that she was alright, but he still didn't know how to look at her without feeling completely ashamed of himself.

"What am I helping with?" she replied, sounding somewhat blindsided- not that Caleb blamed her. And he would have told Ben to drop it, but now he was curious as well.

"Well, two things," Ben replied, and Caleb looked up to see Lisa shut the door softly and approach them, sitting on the edge of the bed. When she made eye contact with him, he suddenly found the carpet fascinating. "First- do you know why Jackson came after you after your flight, and second- what did he do to you?"

"Seriously?" Lisa asked incredulously. Caleb kicked Ben's ankle- the man really needed to work on his finesse.

"Yes, seriously. It's important," Ben insisted, smacking Caleb's leg. Caleb looked up at Lisa again, but she was staring at the wall as she shifted to lay on her stomach.

"Well..." Lisa began, trying to figure out how to explain it without sounding like a victim. They were weird questions, but not really _that_ complicated. And it wasn't as though she harbored resentment toward Jackson for what he had done anymore. She understood it now. "...he was angry at me for ruining the plan, and he wanted revenge." She folded her hands in front of her, resting her chin on her knuckles. "He didn't do much, though- threw me down some stairs and dragged me by my hair, but then my dad shot him, so..." She trailed off, looking down at Ben. "Why is _that_ important?"

"We're talking about irrationally hurting weaker people," Ben explained simply. Lisa furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, but upon seeing the fluster in Caleb's cheeks, she understood. Ben was talking him down. That was probably why he was being so blunt about it- dancing around the subject would probably make Caleb feel even worse.

As frustrated and hurt as she was by what Caleb had done, both to her and to Jackson, Lisa couldn't find it in herself to drag out his obvious guilt. She had never been a vindictive person. And even as she looked at him, her heart told her that behind his rage was a bitter pain, and that was more important than anything else.

"Jackson broke Cheryl's face," she pointed out. "I know she's not exactly defenseless, but she was tied up at the time." She had no idea what the two men had been talking about, but based on some of the discussions she had had with Jackson, she didn't find it far-fetched that it had something to do with their parents. And if it had to do with _them_, especially their father, his abuse was probably key.

Ben's face lit up at this news, but he managed to bring it in quickly, looking back at Caleb. "See? Jackson and I have done it...and we're the same people we've always been. And so are you." Lisa frowned when Caleb merely shrugged, still not looking at her. She wanted to tell him that he shouldn't beat himself up about it- in more appropriate words- but she felt as though it wasn't her place to advise Caleb on anything. In fact, she got the distinct impression that he didn't want her there.

"Should I leave you guys alone?" she asked, moving to get to her feet. "I could go...somewhere else." She wasn't sure exactly where she would go, but she had seen Caleb's face change as soon as she came into the room. He and Ben had obviously been talking somewhat openly, and she was fairly sure that he wouldn't continue to do so when she was there.

Ben turned back to look at Caleb, who shook his head. "How is he?" he asked, changing the subject. Lisa frowned again. She wasn't sure how much she was supposed to tell him, and how much she should leave to Jackson. On the other hand, Jackson had made it clear that he wasn't really going to tackle the situation for quite a while, and it didn't seem fair to leave Caleb _completely_ hanging.

"Alright, I guess," she replied, deciding to stick to the minimal amount of information she could get away with. To be fair, Jackson had been much better when she was leaving. "We're taking a break."

"A break?" Caleb repeated, obviously unsure what that meant. She could tell he was trying to read her, and hoped she wasn't giving too much away.

Lisa nodded. "He needs to focus on the job," she explained. "And he said he can't do that when I'm around...and then he wants time to himself to figure things out." She shrugged, her tone light. "It's fine. I understand it, and..." She trailed off, eyeing the toast on Caleb's plate. "Can I have that?"

Although she didn't feel like it was her place to share how Jackson was taking things- however much he wanted Caleb and Ben to know was _his_ business- she also didn't really want to talk to either of them about their relationship. At least, not where Jackson's feelings were concerned. With how difficult it was to get him to open up, she knew it wasn't right to go ahead and pass on everything he said. It was both a violation of his trust and a shortcut to him closing back up again.

Caleb nodded in the affirmative, smiling. It was weak, but it was the first one Lisa had seen since before they killed Cheryl- she couldn't help but feel her spirits rise a bit. "Looks like someone's changed her mind," he remarked as she shimmied closer to the edge of the bed and reached for the toast.

"What do you mean?" she asked, looking up in confusion as she spread strawberry rhubarb jelly on the toast.

"I don't want bread- I want _real_ food," Caleb paraphrased, his mocking voice higher than usual. Lisa relaxed, laughing as she gesturing at his hashbrowns.

"Well, are you going to share those?" she asked, taking a bite of the toast. Caleb swiftly maneuvered his fork, holding it up like a dagger as he shook his head. This provoked another giggle from Lisa, who turned to look at Ben. The other man was eating his eggs, apparently not paying much attention to the conversation. "Jackson's waiting for you to get back, by the way. He said you guys have to work out some stuff...you should probably call him." She was a little surprised that he had picked up Nikita and the trainees so quickly, but it wasn't really her business.

Ben shrugged. "Yeah, when I'm good and ready," he replied, stealing a strip of Caleb's bacon. "Oh hey, aren't you going to tell her the good news?" he asked Caleb. Lisa switched her attention back to the other man, almost missing the dirty glance he had cast at his friend.

"Ben and I are getting married," he finally said, giving Ben a smug smile. Ben burst out into loud laughter...apparently that wasn't the news he had been referring to. Lisa only shrugged. She was getting used to the banter, and decided that it would be fun to play along.

"Get in line," she said to Ben, folding the remaining piece of toast in half before turning back to a grinning Caleb. "Or is this your way of telling me you want a divorce?"

Caleb shrugged, taking a bite of his hashbrowns. "I think 'sleeping with my brother' is a fairly legit grounds, don't you?"

"Probably as valid as 'engaged to another man'," Lisa countered. "I'm guessing our divorce papers will be worth framing," she continued, sending all three into more laughter.

Ben reached for another strip of bacon, but Caleb slapped his hand away, taking it himself. Lisa watched in amusement as the two men stared each other down, seeming to have some kind of silent conversation. "Alright," Caleb finally conceded. "Don't say anything to Jackson- I want to tell him myself- but after my residency is over, I'm rejoining the agency...if he'll take me."

Lisa's hand froze mid-way to her mouth, and she set down the toast. "Seriously?" she asked, but she wasn't as surprised as she probably should have been. She had already wondered if this would happen after hearing Caleb speaking before. She still wasn't sure exactly what to say, though. "...Congrats?"

"Thanks?" Caleb replied, imitating her hesitation. She saw him furrow his eyebrows, and knew that he was trying to figure out how to explain his choice.

"I get it," she assured him, and in a way, she did. He just didn't seem as unhappy to be there as he should have been if he really did hate what they did so much. Of course, she hadn't seen him when they were off killing Robert, but he definitely seemed...at home when she had seen him help plan Cheryl's death and the Keefe job. She couldn't attest to his behavior before the red eye and before he and Jackson were in each other's lives, but she could see how comfortable he seemed at times, especially with Ben.

"What do you think he'll say?" Caleb asked, interrupting her thoughts. Lisa set down her toast again, caught off guard. He was asking her how she thought _Jackson_ would react? He must have had some idea, but he wanted _her_ input? She was so wrapped in her surprise and odd sense of giddiness that she almost forgot to answer the question.

"He'll probably be mad at first," she replied, thinking about it. "No, 'skeptical' is a better word." And she wouldn't blame him. "I think you should finish talking about what you were telling him before, though...before you tell him you're coming back, I mean. He's pretty worried about you, I think." Sharing an analysis of Jackson's thoughts wasn't a violation of his trust, was it?

Caleb frowned. "He's worried about _me_?" he asked incredulously. Lisa nodded, but her reply was interrupted by Ben scoffing.

"Just make up already," he interjected, "You worry about him, he worries about you, you're both scared that the other one blames you for everything, but you both blame yourselves...I mean, you should have heard him when I told him to go check on you after Lisa called me."

Lisa nodded, surprising herself by supporting Ben's outburst. He put it more bluntly than she would have, but she had to admit that she agreed. "He's right," she offered. "I mean...he's angry at you obviously, but I think he's more upset about what you did than what you said." _Shit_. She let herself get caught up in the moment and shared more than she had intended, but Caleb only nodded.

"Oh, what a tangled web we weave..." he murmured to himself, so quiet that Lisa barely heard it. He sighed loudly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I'll talk to him...when the time is right. Not now."

Lisa folded her hands again, resting her chin as she stared at the carpet between the two men. They had continued talking, but she wasn't really listening anymore. She was glad that Caleb was willing to make that dreaded first step to resolve the years of hurt and misunderstandings between the brothers. She just hoped that Jackson would be able to listen. She had tried more than once to nudge him in that direction, but he had never taken the bait.

It was obvious to her that Jackson was afraid to make the first step, afraid of putting himself out on the line and admitting what he thought were his most humiliating secrets- his weaknesses. And he had also seemed legitimately convinced that his brother saw him as inferior. Maybe he would be more willing to talk it through if it the idea from Caleb himself.

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**Alright, chapter 36 will _definitely _be the attack on Keefe. Hope you guys liked Caleb's breakthrough and Lisa finally starting to find her place in the group. **


	37. In the Cold Light of Morning

**To those of you who are still sticking with this story- I can't apologize enough for taking so long to update. I've had 75% of this chapter written for at least a month, but it was the ending of it that was tripping me up. So...I changed it. I don't think people will be happy. And I'm thinking there's only one chapter left after this one. We'll see what happens.**

**BW4eva- **I guess you'll find out if they all survive. :) But you're right- they would make a great team.

**Betty- **Thanks, hon! That's such a great piece of feedback to hear...you have no idea.

**Eva- **The wait is over (for now)!

**ThePurpleCrayon**- Thanks so much!

**The Elegant Doll**- And you shall now have more!

**Pirate Gyrl**- It's beyond hilarious in my head! :P I think I've already told you that I'm debating writing a prequel of sorts with all of their time in the agency. I might still do that. And/or write some kind of sequel to this one. Who knows?

**The Dyson**- I'll take it under advisement? I honestly never know how to respond to feedback like that this late in the game. Sorry that you were that bored, but more sorry that you're masochistic enough to read 187K words of a story that's the most boring you've ever read in your life.

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**Chapter 36: In the Cold Light of Morning**

Lisa breathed in deeply and exhaled as the elevator rose, attempting to force herself to remain calm. It wasn't as difficult as it probably should have been- she had spent the last number of hours bracing herself for what they were about to do. And it definitely helped when she felt Jackson's hand enclose hers, giving a reinforcing squeeze.

"We'll be fine," she murmured, and looked over to see him nod. She wasn't sure who she was really trying to convince. Luckily, some of the men's professionalism had wormed its way into her own mind, and she found herself completely comfortable with Jackson despite the conversation earlier that afternoon. This was a job, and they couldn't afford any awkwardness. Only moments earlier, they had shared what might be a final "true" kiss, but no words, before reverting to their 'game faces' and entering the elevator.

As they approached Keefe's floor, Lisa stretched out her mouth, ready to completely change her character. She released Jackson's hand and slumped against him, sinking into the role of a drunken, giddy girlfriend. The smile became truly genuine when she looked up to see him return the expression, and she laughed, pressing her lips to his again as the elevator came to a halt. This was it.

Jackson wrapped his arms around her waist, clumsily pulling her out of the elevator without breaking the kiss. She heard him laugh against her lips and couldn't help but giggle again herself. Despite the wicked circumstances, she found herself oddly amused at seeing him being someone so completely different than she was used to.

She broke the kiss at the sound of a man's voice, a sharp gasp that was both exaggerated and true shock escaping her lips when she saw a gun pointed in her face.

Jackson pulled her slightly behind him, an expression of bewilderment in his features. "You guys don't screw around with this whole 'silence after 10' policy, do you?" he asked belligerently, his voice subtly slurred.

The two agents exchanged irritated glances, and lowered their guns somewhat. "You're on the wrong floor," one of them snapped, and Lisa wondered how many times they had faced this exact same scenario. She hadn't expected them to relax so quickly.

Jackson shook his head. "I think I know what a seventeen looks like," he snapped, and out of the corner of her eye, Lisa saw movement behind the two men. It had to be Caleb and Ben, out from their waiting place in the stairwell. At least, she hoped- she didn't dare look.

As one of the agents told Jackson that is was in fact the eighteenth floor, Caleb and Ben finally came into full view and Jackson quickly turned his head, pulling Lisa along. Lisa grimaced when she felt a wet spray of blood on the back of her neck. _Don't think about it...keep it together- the worst is coming, and you know it._

At the last second, they had opted to use knives instead of bullets for the hallway agents since there was a chance that the bullets could penetrate the agents' bodies and hit one or both of Jackson and Lisa.

Lisa turned again when she heard the bodies hit the floor with soft _thumps_ and watched Jackson kneel to remove a key card from one of the agents' jacket pockets. She shifted awkwardly, feeling a bit like a third wheel as Caleb and Ben rummaged through Ben's bag, pulling out guns and a few pairs of what looked like sunglasses, but Lisa figured they must be the homemade infrared glasses she had heard mentioned.

There was no discussion between any of the men- they seemed to move together as though limbs on the same body. Ben handed Jackson an earpiece he had kept in his bag, tossing one to Lisa as well. Ben and Caleb were already wearing theirs, but Jackson and Lisa had been unable to in case the hallway agents were too observant.

As Lisa knelt to take the gun, glasses, and spare magazine that Caleb offered her, Ben signaled to Nikita to kill the power to the floor. This point had been discussed and argued quite a bit in the last few hours. Infrared was tricky since it was almost impossible to distinguish one figure from another. Caleb had pointed out the possibility that in the heat of things, they could confuse a target for each other (Lisa was fairly sure he had been referring only to her, but she did agree it was a legitimate concern), and Jackson had brought up that they couldn't see through walls anyway, so it didn't really help as far as observing the actual layout. But when it came down to it, they were already at such a strategic disadvantage that keeping on the lights would be far more risky.

Lisa bobbed on the balls of her feet a few times, trying not to be distracted by the new experience of seeing the heat signatures around her. She knew how much faith was being put in her, and she felt so much pressure to keep it together.

Although Jackson was technically in charge of the job, he had instructed Ben to take point, and Caleb to flank him since they were much better marksmen and Ben was more experienced of the two. Jackson was third, and Lisa brought up the rear- she was there on an "if necessary" basis, and she knew it.

She snapped to attention as Ben motioned to her and then to the door, as he and Jackson waited by the opposing wall. Caleb followed her, ready to move around her once the door was open. Lisa pulled the door open slowly, allowing Ben to peek inside- they still couldn't be sure if they were taking Keefe and his men by surprise, or if an ambush was waiting for them.

Ben nodded, and Lisa pulled the door the rest of the way, waiting for the men to enter before following. The four moved in a somewhat staggered formation through the empty foyer, and Lisa could feel her heart hammering in her throat. She still had remnants of fear, infused by the tension of finally being in the suite and seeing absolutely no one else so far. She had been under the impression that Keefe kept his men throughout his suite, and it seemed to her that an ambush was becoming more and more likely.

She had shared her previous experience with Keefe with the men earlier, and they were obviously drawing the same conclusion, traveling along the walls as they approached the living room. She stopped as she saw Ben motion to Caleb and back to a side door in the foyer. Yes, they definitely suspected a trap. Caleb and Jackson switched positions, and Lisa watched Caleb move behind her, enabling himself to watch the rear.

Lisa focused on the side door as they passed, knowing that Ben and Jackson were under control of what was in front of them- she was Caleb's flank now. It would be so much easier if they were doing this at the Lux Atlantic- she _knew_ the layout there, and would easily be able to figure out where the best hiding places were...both for Keefe and for them. The only thing they really had to go on now was the layout of hers and Caleb's own suite, which seemed only similar to Keefe's.

Moving cautiously, they made their way through the archway and into the living room, seeing only the faint heat signatures of the furniture and walls. Lisa and Caleb hesitated in the room's entrance, still looking back at door.

"Down!" she heard Ben call out, and spun around to face the front, seeing a glimpse of a person on front of them before hitting the ground. She aimed her gun, but didn't fire, knowing that Ben would easily take out this man- she had been reminded a few times to save her bullets for an actual group. And an actual group quickly followed- before the man even hit the ground, Lisa saw several more signatures move into view and she shot frantically- even in prone position, they were so exposed. She couldn't tell how many men were in the doorway- they blended together into a mass of nauseating day-glo.

Out of the corner of her eye, she picked up another heat signature barely peeking around the entrance they had just came through. She called out to Caleb, quickly firing her gun at the figure. Just as quickly as before, there were more, and she and Caleb opened fire. Even in the neck-breaking speed of the confrontation, it was obvious to Lisa that the agents couldn't actually see them...so much for being ready.

Even as she internally celebrated this advantage, Lisa cried out as she felt a searing pain tear through her shoulder. She gritted her teeth, trying in vain to shut out the pain as she continued to fire, and adrenaline completely took control. She didn't even give it a second thought as she saw the figures fall.

Lisa finally looked around her, seeing that Ben and Jackson had made their way to the adjacent corner of the room, the sofa giving them a pathetic amount of cover. Ben got to his feet and squatted, motioning them to stay prone as he stealthily made his way closer to the figures. She held her breath, resisting every urge to at least cradle her burning shoulder- Ben was completely open to an attack, and they had to watch carefully for any movement. She then noticed that Caleb was approaching the flanking group, and turned her attention back to him. She didn't have room to think- only react and wait for a possible trick.

Caleb motioned for Lisa to keep her gun on the group as he pulled out a flashlight, enabling him to inspect the bodies to make sure they were dead and to check if Keefe was with them. She did so, assuming Ben and Jackson were doing the same. The pain was throbbing away, and Lisa felt as though her flesh were searing- she didn't remember it being this painful last time. She could feel the blood pouring down the back of her arm, and her stomach flipped again. It took all she had to focus her attention on Caleb- she couldn't let him down.

As Caleb moved the bodies, Lisa saw that there were only three men- it had seemed like so many more at the time. He checked their pulses, moving from one to the other before he reached the third man, who was apparently still alive. Caleb pulled out his knife and quickly brought it across the man's throat, finishing him off, and Lisa forced herself to not look away. Even though she knew those men weren't a danger anymore, she couldn't afford to indulge any of that weakness.

She shakily got to her feet when Caleb motioned her over, pressing her hand- while still holding her gun- to the front of her shoulder. It was fairly far from her previous wound, closer to her armpit than the side of her shoulder...she didn't know if that was good or bad.

"Are any of these him?" Caleb asked softly, and Lisa forced herself to study the bodies, focusing intently on a man who was now missing pieces of his jaw, pushing back yet another stomach lurch. It would be a miracle if she made it through this without vomiting. She quickly scanned the faces again before shaking her head- none of these men were Keefe.

"He's not here," Caleb informed the other men, knowing that they would pick up his message on their earpieces.

"He's not with the others." Lisa jumped in surprise at the proximity of Jackson's voice- she hadn't even heard him come up behind them. She tensed when she felt his hand on her arm, and turned to look at him. Caleb turned his flashlight onto her, also moving close to her.

"We don't really have time..." Caleb said awkwardly as he inspected Lisa's wound. Jackson nodded, but his eyes didn't leave Lisa's. Even in the dim light reflecting off her skin, Lisa could easily see the worry in his face. She was hurting badly, but Caleb was right. The agents hadn't been using silenced guns, so it was very likely the shots had been heard. And they still hadn't found Keefe.

"I'll be fine," she managed through gritted teeth. "It just hurts...we need to get Keefe though," she assured Jackson. She couldn't be a distraction for him. "I can wait here and bandage it myself." She smiled weakly, trying to soothe away his concern the best she could. "Just don't leave without me, okay?"

"Are you sure?" Jackson said, and Lisa's gaze briefly flickered to Ben and Caleb, who were already beginning to regroup. She looked back at Jackson, nodding, trying so hard to look confident.

"Yeah," she replied. "Sorry I...couldn't help more." Jackson shook his head roughly.

"You're going to help," he insisted, helping her into a sitting position against the wall. "We're going on ahead, but if Keefe is on the run from us, he'll come out this door again...so you have to watch it." Lisa managed a genuine but feeble smile at his reassuring tone.

"Don't forget to talk to me," she replied, letting Jackson eject her empty magazine and reload the gun before handing it to her. "I wouldn't want to shoot you by accident."

"I don't want that either," he replied, matching her expression. "We'll be back."

With that, Jackson turned and quickly rejoined his teammates, leaving Lisa alone in the dark. She put her glasses back on, but knew that it was a formality. She was fairly certain that Keefe wasn't in the suite. If he knew they were coming, he would have to be very stupid or have a large amount of hubris to stick around.

Balancing her gun on her thigh where she could quickly grab it, Lisa touched her own arm, gritting her teeth and hissing in pain when her fingers grazed the exit wound. It was close to the back of her armpit, and with the entrance wound being closer to the actual side of her arm, it was going to be impossible to wrap.

Well, she could at least get _one_ of the wounds covered- that had to help. And since she had no idea where the exit wound was, she focused on her front. She gripped the hem of her top, quickly tearing off a strip of soft fabric. She didn't know how well it would absorb the blood, but it had to be better than letting her wound bleed freely.

Trying to move as quickly as possible, Lisa held one end of the strip between her teeth, wrapping the strip across her entrance wound and sealing it. She tilted her head, pressing her ear to shoulder to try and muffle _some_ of her winces to avoid distracting the men.

Lisa jumped in surprise, her heart stopping momentarily when she heard more gunshots. One of the men- sounded like Ben- cried out in pain, and then there was silence again except for their breathing. Lisa never thought she'd be so relieved to hear that sound. _Oh God, **please** let them be okay. Please let it be over._ It felt like an hour, silently praying to God, before she heard one of the brothers verify that the agents were dead and again, Keefe wasn't with them.

Lisa shook her head internally, resuming her ministrations. She knew Keefe wasn't there. She was convinced of it. Tying the fabric in a tight knot, Lisa retrieved her gun, listening as one of the twins- she was fairly sure it was Jackson- spoke up.

"Check him- I think I saw someone up ahead," he murmured, and Lisa heard Ben protest that he was _fine_- it was just his leg- but Jackson(?) insisted that he stay there. "Heading your way, Leese," he continued, and then she was sure it was him. "Stay alert."

"Alright," she managed, pulling herself into a crouching position and picking up the gun again. "Please talk to me..." She was terrified now. Jackson _thought_ he saw someone. Didn't mean that he _did_. She couldn't be trigger happy now- if he was wrong, she could easily just shoot him as soon as he came through the door.

But there was only silence. Of course Jackson couldn't _continuously_ talk to her- she knew that. If there was another trained bodyguard in wait, talking would give away his position and make him easier to track in the dark. Lisa held her gun in a ready position, her heart hammering away in her throat as the seconds ticked by. She heard Caleb and Ben faintly speaking, but she forced herself to block them out. Only one voice mattered right now.

And she didn't hear it.

Instead, she heard more shots. And then, she heard the voice, but it was a strangled groan she recognized too well from her dad's house- she had _caused_ that groan. And she _knew_- Jackson was down, and she had to get to him.

Instinctively, Lisa sprang to her feet and pressed against the wall like she had before, quickly reaching for the door. She slowly turned the knob, pulling the door back from the jamb as quietly as possible before throwing it open. She stepped into the doorway, her heart flipping in her chest when she saw the figure lying on the ground- she couldn't make out any features, but she knew.

She set her jaw angrily, her attention turning quickly to the other figure, who was standing over Jackson. From what she could see, his back was to her- he was waiting for the others. Without another thought, Lisa opened fire, emptying her magazine into the man. She didn't even bother worrying that she had the situation incorrect and she was actually shooting Jackson- she just _knew_.

"I got him," she announced, not bothering to lower her voice. She knew the suite was cleared. "Jackson's down." She was trying to remain calm, but she heard the wavering in her own voice. _Don't fall apart now_. Lisa looked down at the man she had shot, and saw that something was still in his hand, probably his gun. She pressed her heel down, kicking the weapon away in case he wasn't dead, before kneeling down, pressing her fingers to his throat. No pulse.

"Nik, lights," Ben commanded as Caleb came rushing into the room. Lisa tossed her glasses to the side, standing to flip on the light switch to the bathroom. Forcing herself to not look at Jackson, she focused her attention on the other man, and her stomach dropped again. It was Keefe. He was a goddamn moron. She felt the bile rise in her throat as she finally turned to look at Caleb, giving him a quick nod of confirmation. Finally lowering her gaze to Jackson, she bit her lip at the sight of him. He looked so _pained_, as though every intake of breath was a burden on him. And Lisa just felt..._hate_. She couldn't believe she had ever thought the dead man at her feet was good. Jackson was good. It just wasn't _fair_.

Willing herself to focus once again, Lisa dropped to her knees at Jackson's side. He had been shot in the chest, but was still conscious. Thank _God_ for that, at least. His breathing was as shallow as she remembered back in her father's house, his eyes just as clouded.

"What do we do?" she asked Caleb, feeling completely lost. Could they _move_ him? Ben limped into the room, giving a soft "fuck" when he saw the scene in front of him.

"I think he'll be able to walk," Caleb said calmly, almost matter-of-factly, looking down at his brother for confirmation. The older man nodded, groaning sharply as he tried to pull himself into a sitting position. "Can you help him? I have to carry Ben- don't want him losing too much blood, because we might need it."

_Me_? Lisa paled, giving herself a few seconds of panic. She wasn't exactly sturdy. She didn't know how quickly they would be able to move, but she also knew that her doubt was killing even _more_ time. Leaving him there was not an option, so she had to do her best. She made eye contact with Jackson again, setting her jaw as she leaned down, letting him drape an arm over her shoulders.

We'll be fine, she repeated to herself again and again, hoping she was somehow giving him some kind of reassurance as she strained to pull both of them to their feet, letting out a cry of effort and pain as her own injury throbbed, a fresh stream of blood rushing down her arm. Thankfully, Jackson found the strength to carry most of his own weight in this initial effort.

When they were halfway to their feet, Lisa wrapped her good arm around Jackson's waist for support, shifting her weight again to allow him to lean on her. She nodded at Caleb, who had Ben on his back, and followed the two men out the door.

Her speed increased as adrenaline took over again, and she followed Caleb into the elevator, almost matching his quick pace. She gritted her teeth again and leaned forward, simultaneously pressing the "basement" and "close door" buttons with the fingers of her free hand, holding them down as the door closed. She had learned this trick and bitchily depended on it at her old job- it prevented the elevator from stopping at any other floor. She figured that if the police _had_ been called, they were likely in the lobby, and this was a way to bypass being caught.

She barely heard Ben telling Nikita to have the car ready to go. Jackson's head slumped against hers, his shallow breaths echoing in her ear. Lisa brought up her free hand to grip the hand draped across her shoulders, giving him a reassuring squeeze. We'll be fine.

As the elevator descended, she felt Jackson lean more heavily against her, and he exhaled heavily. _Stay with me_... She just tightened her grip on him, reassuring herself by listening to his breathing. She could only hope he was somehow getting her messages- she didn't trust her voice at the moment. Her own pain was hardly registering- how could she even _think_ about it when Jackson was barely conscious?

The elevator came to a stop, and Lisa quickly followed Caleb through the bowels of the hotel. With him leading the way, they quickly exited the back door and to the waiting car. Caleb let Ben drop to the ground, finally able to help Lisa move Jackson into the backseat.

They lay him down across the back seat, both squeezing themselves into the footrest areas. Once they were down, Ben gave the command to take off, and Nikita floored it- they could hear the faint sirens, and _had_ to get out of there fast. Lisa cried out as the car took a sharp turn, but she hadn't been paying attention and didn't have time to brace herself.

Jackson brought a hand to Lisa's side, reflexively catching her from slamming her left side into the door. He frowned when he realized that the warmth he felt against his palm was quite wet, and once the car steadied itself again, he pulled away, looking at his hand. He knew his hand had his own blood on it before, but not _this_ much. Not so much that rivulets, blackened by the night, ran over the backs of his fingers. It hit him sickeningly hard that this was _Lisa's_ blood.

He looked up at her again, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. He could see the blood soaking through her bandage, but it wasn't bleeding like _this_. Was there another wound they had missed? He hissed in pain as Nikita took another sharp turn- at least they would be out of the area soon, and then she could drive more smoothly. He felt Caleb's hands tearing open his shirt, but barely noticed him, really. His brother knew what he was doing.

Jackson's focus was on Lisa, the wild fear and pain in her eyes as she watched Caleb work. He had known this was a possibility, of course, and he knew that she _chose_ to come with them, but no matter how much he tried to rationalize it...he couldn't forgive himself for allowing her to be hurt like this.

Lisa finally made eye contact with him, and she tilted her head in confusion, as though she was just sensing his concern. Knowing her, she probably wasn't even acknowledging her own injuries, and frankly, that worried him. She seemed to have it in her head that supporting them meant ignoring herself, and he didn't want that.

Lisa glanced down at the bloody hand that had triggered Jackson's latest concern, and seemed to understand what he was thinking. "I couldn't reach the back," she explained softly, almost embarrassed. Jackson winced, but this time it had nothing to do with his chest. She felt like a burden, didn't she?

Jackson looked over at Caleb, who also seemed to read his mind, digging in his bag. Jackson realized that Caleb had already sealed his chest- he was breathing much better now. Sure enough, he looked down to see that valve seal...Ackerman? Asherman? Didn't matter- he was just in pain now. And pain was something he could deal with.

Caleb placed a roll of bandage and gauze in Jackson's other hand and then shifted Jackson's legs, moving up to kneel between them and give himself better access. Lisa shook her head, still staring at Jackson's hand. "I'm fine," she insisted, but her voice was strained. "It just hurts." She let out a small sob when Caleb firmly lifted Jackson onto his side, giving himself better access to the exit wound and causing a sharp groan of pain from Jackson.

As Caleb's fingers quickly moved across Jackson's back, Lisa let out another sob, Caleb's words from a few days ago coming back to her._ Just cross your fingers that he doesn't get another injury in that same lung_. Yes, Jackson's wound was sealed for now, but it was that same lung. And he seemed so...detached from it. _Oh God please..._

Despite how hard she tried to regain her composure, she felt herself breathing rapidly, her tears streaming down her cheeks now. _What are the chances that he'll die_?

_Good._

Jackson felt the knot in his stomach tighten as Lisa began to fall apart. He knew he had to get that wound covered, but Jesus, he had to get her calm somehow. He hissed in pain again at Caleb applying pressure to his own wound, and tasted his own blood on his tongue. He tried to hide it, but he knew Lisa saw everything.

"Leese," he said softly, trying to keep his voice steady as possible to reassure her. When she didn't seem to even hear him, he placed his palm on her cheek, his fingers resting in her hair. "We'll be fine, remember?" He was so focused on her that he didn't even noticed what Caleb was doing anymore, and didn't even register the needle being inserted into his free arm.

Lisa let out another whimper, leaning into his touch. She wanted to believe it so badly, but Caleb had _said_... She couldn't lose him now. Not in the back of a car like this. Not over a specimen like _Keefe_. It wasn't _fair_, wasn't _right_.

"We'll be fine," she repeated, even though she just didn't believe it. His face was so pale, and a soft haze seemed to settle in his eyes. In the darkness, she couldn't really see the extent of the blood on the seat, but she could tell there was quite a bit of it.

She wanted to tell him that she loved him, but she couldn't say that. 'I love you' was so _final_. She could only curse her own tears, her own weakness. She had to find more strength somewhere, stay strong for him. He shouldn't have to worry about her at a time like this._ Chances are one or both of us will be dead by this time tomorrow._

No. She _couldn't_ think like that. But how the _hell_ was she supposed to think about anything else?

"We'll be fine," she said again, trying to sound more sure of herself this time. She saw Jackson lean up with much effort, and quickly closed the gap between them, pressing her lips to his. She winced slightly at the metallic taste that she knew was his blood, but she didn't care. This was too important. She let her lips say what her voice couldn't._ I love you. I need you. I'm sorry I couldn't be stronger_. And maybe it was her imagination, but she heard the same message repeated back to her in his kiss.

Jackson felt something of a calm wash over him as he broke the kiss. He wasn't ready to pull away yet- the contact was just too comforting, so he pressed his forehead against hers, staring into her soothing eyes before the pain became too much and he had to pull away. With his brother's assistance, he was finally able to fully lay on his back again, and he let his eyes close, exhaling deeply.

Caleb rested back on his heels, turning his attention to Ben in the front seat. The bandage seemed to be doing its job just fine, so there wasn't much to do for him for the time being. "How is it?" he asked, smiling weakly when Ben muttered a sarcastic "King."

"Keep it elevated," he reminded him, turning his attention back to Jackson. His brother was as fine as he could be, all things considering. The Asherman seal was enabling him to breathe easily, and the bandages were fine- it was just a matter of getting him to Thomas' house to actually _operate_ on the damn thing, which was definitely going to be the hard part. Thomas' house was equipped for things like broken bones, more minor gunshots, but sucking chest wounds were so damn complicated. Caleb already found himself running mentally through everything he had learned so he would be as ready as possible. Speaking of which, it occurred to him that he should definitely call Thomas so _he_ could be ready, too.

Reaching forward, Caleb removed Jackson's phone from his pocket, and then noticed his brother's struggles with Lisa. They were attempting to bandage her exit wound, but failing somewhat miserably. It seemed that her exit wound was at an odd angle, and it was too much effort for Jackson. Lisa was helping the best she could, but one arm could only provide so much assistance. Caleb set down the phone again.

"Come here," he said to Lisa, leaning forward further as she followed suit. He quickly grabbed the hem of her top and pulled it over her head- there was no time for modesty concerns. Glancing at the material in his hands, he knew that it was insufficient to wipe away her blood- it wasn't absorbent enough. He tossed it aside, picking up the shirt Jackson had been wearing, quickly wiping the excess blood from her side, barely registering her sharp hisses.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise noting just how much there was- if he had to guess, without looking, it seemed very possible that the bullet had struck the axillary artery. If that was the case...Caleb didn't even want to think about it. For now, he just had to hope he was wrong and help get her stabilized.

Caleb clenched his jaw as he finished cleaning her wound as best he could. This whole experience went against everything he had been taught- using Jackson's blood-soaked shirt to wipe Lisa's wounds, no gloves, yet another operation- hell, a _series_ of operations, if he was correct about Lisa and depending on just how badly Ben's calf had been torn up- in unsterile conditions, with shitty anesthetic...

He shook his head, carefully wrapping the bandage and holding it in place so his brother could use his teeth to tear a fresh strip of tape from the roll._ No point worrying about it, because hospitals are **not** an option. Suck it up_. As Jackson placed the tape across the bandage, all three turned their attention to the ringing phone on Jackson's thigh. _Marie. **Shit**_.

Caleb glanced down at Jackson, who just nodded a go-head. "You have to talk to her," Jackson said firmly. "Don't want her knowing..." _Just in case_, Caleb finished internally. Jackson didn't want her knowing that he was injured. It made sense, but _him_ talk to _Marie_? He hadn't spoken to her since he left the agency, for Christ's sake.

But Jackson obviously wasn't going to take the call, and they couldn't let it go to voicemail, so Caleb reluctantly grabbed the phone, flipping it open. Before bringing the phone to his ear, he shot a panicked look at his brother. He knew Jackson spoke French to her, and Caleb hadn't said more than 'garage' in _years_. "I don't-"

"English," Jackson muttered, reading his thoughts before he even spoke them. Caleb nodded. Of course. Speaking English was probably less suspicious than lousy French.

As he finally focused his attention on the phone, he could hear Marie speaking rapidly already, and he understood _maybe_ every three words. He covered the phone with his hand, focusing on Ben. "Call Thomas," he told his friend, "and then Jeff." He had a feeling they were going to need as many hands as possible, no matter how inexperienced.

"We got him," he interrupted Marie, finally giving her his complete attention. "And we made it out." _You psychopath_, he added internally. Jackson might be enamored with her, but she had never really gotten Caleb under that spell of manipulation.

"And Ben?" She asked after a few stunned seconds, likely surprised that he was speaking English. Caleb pondered for a moment- lie and say Ben was there, or tell the truth?

"He's with us," he finally said, figuring that she would find out anyway when Ben's body wasn't found in the suite. He shot Jackson a glance to see if he had made the right choice, but Jackson's face gave away nothing.

"Why?" Marie demanded, sounding somewhat less than pleased. And then she launched into a scolding that Caleb couldn't understand literally, but was fairly sure he heard anyway. She was calling him- well, Jackson- a failure.

"We need him," was all Caleb replied, finally grateful that Jackson wasn't one to elaborate. He wasn't in the mood to think of a lie, to shift their roles with mental gymnastics.

"Why?" she demanded again, and Caleb scowled. He looked down at Jackson, whose face was almost unrecognizable with the pain. He shifted his gaze to Lisa, who was covered in various places in her blood, Jackson's blood, that bodyguard's blood, and God only knew who else's, and then to Ben, who was attempting to convince Jeff that it was safe to come to Thomas', his voice strained as he fought back pain of his own. And Caleb finally lost his patience with the entire damn thing.

"Because _you_ gave me two goddamn days to come up with this plan and execute it with absolutely _no_ team, not to mention using _me_ to take care of _your_ petty grudges, and just because you _wanted_ it. That's-" he cut himself off with a sharp groan as he felt Jackson kick him firmly in the ribcage. Without another word, Caleb cut off the screaming woman by closing the phone.

"Lost the signal," he muttered, turning his attention to Ben as the taller man simulated an explosion from the front seat, wordlessly conveying just how badly Caleb had handled that.

"Terrific," Jackson groaned, shaking his head, and Ben carefully maneuvered to face the backseat passengers. He opened his mouth to speak, but was caught off-guard by the sight of Lisa's back. He had heard what was happening with her injury, of course, but he was fairly sure he was the first one who really got to _see_ the extent.

Caleb had wiped away some of the blood, but Ben could see the dark stains on her skin, and there was more drying on her lower back, staining the waistband of her pants. He carefully reached around, letting his leg finally move from the dashboard as he gently gripped Lisa's shoulders. She barely turned to look at him as he maneuvered her to rest against the seat back. Unlike Caleb, who while obviously caring, was distracted by the other goings on, and Jackson, who was likely full of just as much denial as fear, Ben could be objective, and to him, even from behind, Lisa looked _exhausted_.

He could see how pale she was, how weakly she held herself, and he could see how much blood she had lost. But he was also fairly sure that she knew as well and was keeping it to herself, much like he himself was- his leg hurt like a motherfucker, but there were just more important things to worry about. He would definitely have to take a better look at Thomas' house without either Rippner distracting her.

Returning Lisa's small smile of gratitude, Ben finally turned to Jackson, whose face was a stubborn mask of determination. Ben couldn't even imagine how much pain _he_ was in, but apparently there were more important things than _that_, too. _What a fucking business_.

"So, before you pass out, I think we need to talk about what the fuck just happened in there," he said to Jackson, who nodded, but Ben noticed his eyelids faltering. He would have _loved_ to let Jackson relax, but they weren't finished, and the man was still their authority, really. "I don't think it's too much of a stretch to say that they were ready for us, is it?"

Jackson shook his head. It could be argued that they were just paranoid, but if that was the case, why come to Miami in the first place? That was definitely a failed attempt at a capture. He glanced over at Caleb, who placed the phone back on Jackson's stomach, showing no remorse for what he had said. Jackson didn't care _that_ much either, really. It was done, and Marie wasn't a priority at the moment.

"And if I'm right," Ben continued, "that means your friend is in a lot of trouble...either from his coworkers, or from us." Jackson nodded again. He didn't believe for a moment that Jonathan had betrayed them- no, he hadn't told the man anything about his whereabouts or the specific plan, but his phone could have easily been traced before the attacks had even happened.

He turned his attention to Lisa when he felt her hand gingerly squeeze his forearm. "Aren't you going to warn him?" she asked, her eyes wide. Jackson shook his head firmly, praying this would be one of those times she just listened without questioning. No such luck. "You can't just let him die without _trying_ to help."

"It's one of the risks," Jackson insisted. He had already made that much clear to the man. He was well aware it was cold, but he might still be useful, and Jackson couldn't have him fleeing just yet.

Lisa shook her head again, her eyes boring into his. Jackson broke the eye contact, feelings of irritation that she was pressing and embarrassment that she was right fighting for position. Well, that and an odd sense of amusement that despite the concern in her eyes, despite the fact that she had practically fallen to pieces a moment ago, she still found the wherewithal to rebuke him. Thankfully, Ben chimed in again, interrupting Lisa before she could even retort.

"Call him," he insisted, and Jackson stared incredulously. Ben _knew_ better than that. "Don't look at me like that," Ben snapped. "We left a big fucking mess in that suite- all that blood, hair, no body- we _need_ one of ours in there for the investigation. And your guy will know how to get ahold of Spencer. She can probably help." Jackson raised an incredulous eyebrow. Everything about this was unorthodox. If they needed support, they never asked themselves, and they sure as hell never used an informant as a middleman.

He finally opened his mouth to respond- Christ, he was _tired_, but Ben seemed to anticipate what he was going to say. His eyes fixated intensely on Jackson's with a hint of an uncharacteristic plea. "Just trust me."

Jackson sighed heavily, wincing sharply at the stabbing pain it caused. Ben was right. And he _really_ hated being put in his place by that man. Of _course_ they needed one of theirs investigating, and it wasn't like he knew how to get ahold of them- Marie had always handled the government side herself. And Agent Spencer was actually a good idea- she had helped cover up a job more than once for the agency in the past since she was actually more of a federal investigator than CIA agent. Hell, he was pretty sure she was already involved in the Keefe affair after his previous fuck up, so she was definitely the best option. But..._God_, Jackson hated the idea of bringing _her_ in.

With a sharp groan, he reached for his phone- the throbbing was spreading through his entire upper body, feeling like it was growing by the second. But Caleb snatched it up first, scanning through the contacts. He didn't need to ask questions- he knew the name, he knew what Jackson wanted, and he knew how Jackson would talk to Jonathan.

And maybe it was better that way, really. Jackson groaned again, shifting slightly against the blood-warmed upholstery. Normally, he hated giving up the reins so easily. He wanted to be on the phone, in control, making the orders and the decisions. But his head was swimming in a disgusting haze of a thousand pieces of information all trying to process- the past, the present, and the future. The pain, the job, Marie, fucking _everything_. And it felt surprisingly good- and was even more surprisingly _easy_- to let Caleb and Ben fill his role, so he could just_ let go_.

He turned his head to give Lisa one last faint smile- for now, at least- which she returned. Really, he was ridiculously proud of her. He knew she probably blamed herself for needing that reassurance earlier, but _he_ needed it in a way. She brought the humanity into their methodical operation, and at the moment, was giving him something to fight for. No, that wasn't it. She _reminded_ him, wordlessly reassured him that what he was fighting for, what he did- his very _existence-_ _wasn't_ so cruel. Whereas she had previously made him think of how...inhuman he was in comparison, now, it was different. She saw the good in him, and was starting to make him believe it again.

Lisa bit down on her lip softly, trying to read the novels being written in Jackson's eyes. He looked...peaceful. Was that a good thing? She looked over at Caleb, who had finished his conversation with the informant- despite the fact that Caleb had called him by name only seconds ago, Lisa had already forgotten it- but he looked relatively unconcerned.

"Duramorph's kicking in," he explained casually, handing Jackson's phone up to Ben, who had turned around again and was slumped in his seat. "He'll be a little out of it for awhile...don't worry."

Lisa laughed humorlessly. "Don't worry," she repeated, her voice embarrassingly shaky. Caleb chuckled softly.

"Don't panic?" he suggested with a lightheartedness she wished she could tap into. But behind the smile, she could see the concern in his eyes, but reminded herself that she was relatively powerless at this point. She had done her best to help Jackson feel more comfortable, but the actual repair was all on Caleb and Thomas. She just had to stay out of their way now.

"I can do that," she replied, turning her head to glance out the window as she realized the car had slowed significantly. They must be close. "Just...let me know if I can help," she murmured, lowering her head to look at the lightening sky, momentarily distracted by the beauty of that soft purple before a sudden sensation of dizziness forced her to sit up straight again.

"Definitely," Caleb replied, and Lisa could hear him shifting his position on the seat again as Nikita pulled the car into a driveway. "Can you help Nikita get Ben into the house? Thomas and I need to get him inside right away."

Lisa nodded, turning to look over her shoulder as she heard Ben murmur something foreign-sounding...Russian, probably...to the other woman. She watched the redhead practically jump out of the car and rush around, but instead of going to Ben's door, Nikita opened Lisa's door, holding out a hand to help her climb out. Lisa gratefully took the assistance. Her own movement caused the ground to waver unsteadily under her feet, and she almost hit the pavement.

With Nikita's help, Lisa quickly moved out of the way of a man who had come up behind her- probably Thomas- and couldn't help but watch in fascination how the two men moved so swiftly, smoothly pulling Jackson from the car with Caleb following him out the door. They carried him so carefully, but Lisa couldn't help but think that they definitely could have used a stretcher.

Feeling incredibly guilty, Lisa forced herself to look away from the men. Now that they were out of the shadows, she could see just how pale Jackson's face was. How weak he looked. It was a sharp contrast to the man she had been with for the past few days, and she couldn't handle looking at him anymore.

Her observations were interrupted by her knees buckling, and she let out a sharp groan as Nikita's grip around her waist tightened. "Shouldn't we help Ben?" she asked the woman, turning to face her. Nikita shook her head.

"You need it more," she replied, and Lisa frowned. She was just _dizzy_ for God's sake. She didn't even feel that much pain anymore. But Caleb had made it sound like Ben _needed_ to keep his weight off his leg.

"Come on, Lisa Lee," Ben chimed in before she could respond, limping with effort to her other side. "We need to get you on an IV, unless you want to keep pretending that you're fine," he continued, placing a hand on the small of her back. Lisa whipped around to face him, ready to argue that she wasn't _that_ bad, but she was silenced by the look of knowing in his eyes.

"You know how to do an IV?" she finally mumbled, her face crimson with a strange embarrassment. Ben only grinned as the two New Yorkers helped Lisa make her way into the house, and Lisa felt a mix of reassurance and the exact opposite. She couldn't decide if she was in the hands of a pro or a mad scientist.

As the trio followed the sounds the men were making and finally arrived in a room that seemed to double as storage and an office, they were greeted by Thomas' back.

"What do you need?" he asked, without turning around.

"Saline IV," Ben replied, leaving Lisa's side to approach him. Thomas quickly placed assortment of objects that Lisa couldn't really see into an empty box and handed it over to Ben, finally turning to look at him.

"Shit," he gasped, pulling away. "You're not supposed to be here."

Ben smirked, holding the box under one arm. "I get that a lot," he replied casually.

Thomas shook his head, and from Lisa could see, he actually looked scared. "I'm serious. You're marked. If Marie finds out I let you stay here...she'll kill me."

_No. Just...no_. Lisa felt uncharacteristic anger rise in her chest. A hundred protests fought for escape from her mouth- Ben was helping her, he needed help, they would probably _all_ be dead without him, he was her friend...that was enough, really. She reached down to the waistband of her pants, where her gun was still tucked, and held it up with a strained gasp of pain.

"Would you rather die _now_?" she asked through clenched teeth, not giving herself time to think about just how _reckless_ she was being. She wasn't going to let Ben be turned away because of that bitch's order._ Just...absolutely not._

Thomas stared at her in surprise, and Lisa felt a rush of power at the fear in his eyes that if she really thought about, she might find sickening. But it accomplished her goal, and the doctor only walked out, taking the supplies he needed.

"Bad_ass_," Ben marveled approvingly, approaching her again. With his free hand, he took her gun, ejecting the magazine. "Might want to have rounds in it next time, though," he added with a wink.

Lisa smiled weakly as she was led to the chair, sitting down again. "I still have my death threat training wheels on," she remarked dryly, provoking a chuckle from Ben.

"Cute," he remarked, pulling out an object that Lisa vaguely recognized from hospital visits, but she wouldn't know where to start on its actual name. A monitor, maybe? He stared for a moment, obviously trying to remember what he was supposed to do next. He finally craned his neck to the open door with a resigned expression, yelling for Caleb.

Lisa frowned. She _really_ didn't want to pull Caleb from what he was doing. But the doctor had heard Ben's call and quickly came into the room, pulling off his bloody gloves and tossing them into the trash. "I don't know how to work the pump," Ben admitted, moving to the side as Caleb approached, grabbing the mechanism.

"Get off your leg," Caleb snapped firmly, grabbing a gray, rectangular object from the box. Ben obediently stepped back, sitting on the desk as Nikita pushed Lisa's chair closer to him. Lisa watched mesmerized as Caleb attached the object to the pump, placing both on the desk next to Ben's thigh and pushing firmly to snap them together. She didn't understand any of what he was doing as he skillfully worked the controls on the pump, but it was fascinating to see him so _composed_. But it was his job- or had been- so it was to be expected.

She shifted uncomfortably in the chair, trying to focus as a shiver raced up her spine. It was so cold in there, and she couldn't even wrap her arms around herself. "Alright," Caleb began again when he had finished, handing the pump back to Ben. "You can take care of the rest, right?" When Ben nodded, Caleb shot Lisa another reassuring smile and headed for the door. "We're going to need you- _soon_," Lisa heard him call as he walked away, and now that she couldn't see him anymore, she could hear how frantic his voice actually sounded.

Lisa turned to look at Ben again, questioning in her eyes. "He's being a vampire," Ben explained lightly, wiping the crook of Lisa's arm with an alcohol pad. "Wants my blood."

"Oh," Lisa managed weakly, squinting her eyes. She was having a hard time adjusting to the dim room- things kept getting blurry. She let out a small cry when she felt Ben inject the needle into her arm, more in surprise than real pain. "How do you know...?" She trailed off, fidgeting. She could feel her body shivering slightly, but she could also feel the sweat on her brow.

"Oh, we've talked enough about me," Ben replied good naturedly, but Lisa swore she heard something more serious in his voice. "Tell me about yourself."

"Like what?" she replied, furrowing her brow. That was such a _weird_ request. She caught his gaze, and as the nervousness in his features became apparent, the reality of the situation finally hit her with nauseating force. He was trying to keep her talking- keep her _awake_. As she fidgeted again in the seat, it finally registered that she was still losing blood- the leather was sticky against her bare skin.

"Oh God," she whispered, closing her eyes as the dizzy sensation increased along with her panic. Even sitting, she felt like she was going to fall over. "I'm going to die, aren't I?"

"Not today," Ben replied, his tone too soothing. _Oh **God**._ It hadn't even occurred to her. Yes, she had known that Jackson was a higher priority, but Jesus, she wasn't _that_ noble. It had never crossed her mind to sacrifice herself for him- she honestly hadn't thought it was that bad. But at the same time...she didn't even consider asking Ben to get Caleb to be an option.

"Lisa," Ben said firmly, interrupting her thoughts. She could hear him lean forward on the desk, flinching when she felt his grip near her elbows. "You're going to be _fine_. We're getting saline into you, alright?"

Lisa could only whimper. She didn't _want_ to die. She wasn't ready. She had only just begun to really feel _alive_, for God's sake.

"You need to tell him something," she said quietly. If she was about to die, she'd be damned if she did nothing to ease Jackson's inevitable guilt about it at least somewhat. He was going to blame himself- of course he was. And he shouldn't. At all. "No, shut up and listen," she snapped, interrupting his protests. God only knew how long the Rippners were going to be in that other room, and he was her only option.

Ben didn't respond, and Lisa forced herself to open her eyes, noting with relief that her dizziness had passed again. She bit her lip at the look on his face- he was now listening intently. It was what she wanted, but it definitely made the situation seem more dire. At least if Ben _argued_, Lisa could think there was some hope that she was overreacting. But he was listening. This was serious.

"Tell him..." She trailed off, frowning again. _Tell him what?_ What could _possibly_ be enough? Maybe the truth would be enough. "Tell him I chose to come. That I _wanted_ to. That I don't regret it...I'm _scared_," she whimpered, interrupting her own message. Ben only nodded, looking incredibly uncomfortable, and she didn't really blame him. They both knew that he wasn't the man she wanted sitting with her.

Lisa grimaced. There were so many things she wanted to say, but none of them seemed appropriate. Everything she had given him so far was a repeat of already spoken ideas- she had to give him something else. And words couldn't express how much she hated the very idea of Jackson hearing these things for the first time from Ben. Not that there was anything wrong with the man, but God, she wanted to say them to _Jackson_. But...just in case...she would rather use the less than perfect mediary than _never_ tell him.

"Tell him...well, and this is for you, too but more for him," Lisa babbled on, the words starting to not even make sense to her own ears. Hopefully Ben could put it all in the right order if he had to. God_damn_ it, this might be her last chance to tell Jackson how she really felt, and she _didn't have the words_. "I felt alive, more than-" She cut herself off, frowning. "No, don't say 'alive'- not a good word. But I don't know how else to say...complete?" She made a face at the very idea. "It's..." She cringed again. _He saved me. _

"I think it's a good word," Ben assured her, and Lisa whimpered again when he took her hand in his. "But...I think we should talk about something else." He gave her a faint smile. "Because he and I _won't_ have to have this conversation, and you probably want to tell him yourself, right?"

Lisa nodded, trying to blink back her tears, but she was minutes too late for that. "Do you think he's going to die?" she asked softly. It wasn't much of a subject change, but she felt incapable of keeping her thoughts to herself at this point- she was bursting to ask _someone_ who might have a better idea. _He...made me feel whole._

"I don't think he knows how," Ben replied, grinning faintly. "No, honestly- Cal's good at what he does. And really..." His smile faded into something more sober. "...if he didn't have a chance, Cal would have insisted that we leave him there. That man...can be fucking cold when he has to be."

Lisa nodded, actually feeling somewhat reassured. "Cheryl said that, too," she replied. She was feeling much calmer now- which was probably Ben's intention. "She said...he's as cold as Jackson wishes he could be." _For someone who thinks he's made of ice...he's so passionate. _

Ben raised his eyebrows, nodding absently. "I suppose that's true," he admitted, looking as though he hadn't thought about it before. _I felt strong with him_..._most of the time.__  
_

Lisa leaned her head back on the seat. It felt so heavy. "That whole night was so twisted," she admitted. "I didn't even _want_ to tell Jackson about it. I'm a great secret-keeper, you know. I have lots of secrets..." She smiled softly, realizing that she didn't feel cold anymore. She must have finally adjusted- at least that was what she tried to convince herself, but somehow, she knew it wasn't true. _I love him. Not in a storybook, perfect way...it's been rough, I've wanted to give up, he's wanted to give up, but we...can't. Couldn't. Please get him here soon- I need him here. I need him to tell me I'm wrong again, that he was it under control._

"Lots of secrets," she repeated faintly, feeling so...floaty. Caleb must have given her some of that...whatever it was called. "It's good stuff," she heard herself relay, barely noticing Ben asking what she was talking about. Whatever- he could ask Caleb about it. "How long do you think they'll be?" She honestly wasn't sure if she was actually speaking out loud anymore, or just thinking to herself. Her eyes fluttered closed again of their own accord- the darkness felt so wonderful this time. Comfortable.

And somewhere in her mind- her memories- she felt Jackson was there, holding her in his arms, lulling her to sleep. Taking her to a place where even pain itself couldn't hurt them.

Caleb's head snapped up, and he quickly turned to Thomas. The older doctor appeared quite frustrated, but Caleb still stood back from the makeshift operating table. The two men had been preparing to remove one of Jackson's ribs, which had been shattered by bullet. It would also make for an easier operation on the lung itself.

"I'll be right back," Caleb muttered, frustrated himself. He had heard the urgency in Ben's voice, and he knew that he had an obligation to go to him, but for fuck's sake, this was his _brother_. He made eye contact with Jeff, who was monitoring Jackson's heart rate through a stethoscope, looking close to fainting already just at the _idea_ of what they were about to do. Ripping off his gloves, he added "She's important, too." He knew Thomas could keep Jackson stable, and besides, he needed to send in Ben before they could start operating anyway.

But _still_. Caleb allowed himself one last glance at his unconscious brother, rubbing the back of his neck. Everything in him screamed to stay, but he knew that Jackson had put his faith in him to hold things together. With a heavy sigh, he reluctantly tore his gaze away, quickly turning on the ball of his foot and heading quickly down the hallway.

Caleb entered the room, his breath catching in his throat when he saw Lisa slumped in the seat, and the frantic expression written all over Ben's face.

"She just..." Ben began explaining, but Caleb cut him off with a wave of his hand, approaching the unconscious woman. As he got closer, he shook his head, the dread continuing to build. "Should we hook up a transfusion?"

Caleb shook his head, bending over Lisa and tilting her forward. He should have taken more time to examine her himself. With every observation, his heart sank further and further. He had missed _so_ much blood. As he took her arm in his hand, gently probing the skin, he knew with disgusting confidence that he had been right before. Her skin was cold, clammy, and significant bruising was already spreading over her shoulder and down her back. The bandage was doing its job, but she was still bleeding- internally.

And as Caleb gingerly removed the bandage- blocking out Ben's protests- the sight of blood rushing to the wound left absolutely no room for interpretation. Her axillary artery hadn't just been nicked- it had been severed. He didn't even have to open her up. There was no other explanation for that much blood.

Caleb closed his eyes, exhaling sharply. "Go to Thomas," he ordered, his jaw tensing in an effort to keep his voice steady. "I'll stay with her." He didn't have to open his eyes to see the incredulous expression on Ben's face.

"She just needs fucking _blood_," the taller man argued, knowing full well what Caleb was implying. "And _stitches_, right?" Caleb shook his head, or thought he did, anyway. He had been prepared for this- they all were. But that didn't mean he was fucking _okay_ with it.

_An severed artery snaps like a rubber band. Even if I could find the fucking ends- if I had the **time** to find them, to repair them, reconnect them, and do it all myself- she's losing blood faster than we're going to replace it._ His fingers pressed to Lisa's wrist, wincing at the faint flutter where he should have felt a strong pulse. _She has minutes left...maybe_.

He could have given Ben a hundred reasons why what he was saying wasn't correct, but all that came out was a harsh "Go." He heard a deep intake of air from his friend, and knew he was about to argue, but when Caleb finally opened his eyes again, raising his head to meet Ben's, the taller man closed his mouth again.

"_Fuck_," he muttered before exiting the room, hissing with pained effort.

Caleb inhaled deeply again, trying to keep his emotions at bay. They still had an operation to do, and he couldn't afford to lose control of himself. But he also wasn't about to leave Lisa to die alone, even if she was likely completely unaware of his presence. He gathered her up in his arms, breathing shakily as he carried her out of the room. He couldn't really explain it- he wanted to put her in a bed.

And he did so, instinctively pulling off his own shirt and putting it over her small frame. He then sat on the edge of the bed, turning his head to look down at the woman who had somehow entrenched herself in their lives in a matter of days. Staring down at Lisa, who was emitting the shallowest of breaths, Caleb couldn't help but wish that he and Jackson could somehow switch places. His own medical capabilities were useless anyway, and it should have been Jackson there with her, not him. On the other hand...maybe it was better this way. At least Jackson wouldn't have to see her so...fragile.

Caleb braced his chin on his palm, taking her hand in his free one. He frowned when he felt absolutely no physical response- it wasn't surprising, but still hit him hard. He wasn't sure _what_ to think at this point. His mind seemed almost blank, probably more vacant than it should have been. Or maybe he just didn't know how to handle this, so his mind was refusing to acknowledge it. He didn't know- he wasn't a psychologist.

The almost complete silence in the room, broken only by the sounds of Caleb's breathing- Lisa's was too quiet to hear anymore, but he could still see her chest rising and falling occasionally- was torture. Caleb closed his eyes again, letting his fingers slide to her wrist to check her pulse.

"Why didn't you tell us?" he asked, knowing full well he wasn't going to get a response. "Martyrdom is a fucking cliché, remember?" But even as he asked, he knew his blame was misplaced. He should have paid better attention to her.

But the sad reality was that if they were going to save Lisa's life, they would have had to start working on her almost immediately- stabilizing, finding those ends- and Jackson also had needed attention. It would have been one or the other from the start, and if Caleb had been conscious of Lisa's condition...would he have chosen her? He didn't even want to _think_ about it. Or about how he should never have let her help Jackson out of that room- but that was irrelevant anyway, because it all came down to the fact that he had missed _everything_. And when he had first inspected her wound, back in the suite, all he could think about was the job. He should have been able to diagnose her right then and there. He had fucking _failed _her.

Caleb lifted his head and ran his hand through his hair, tugging sharply on the strands. He couldn't rationalize it. It just wouldn't work this time. The simple fact of the matter was that regardless of Lisa's decisions, her blood was on all of their hands- hers, his, Ben's, and Jackson's. This wasn't something they were going to be able to recover from quickly by any means- if at all- and as Caleb realized that he didn't feel her pulse anymore, he knew that they didn't deserve to.


	38. Lazarus

**Alright, a few things:**

**1. I did not intend to go back on the end of last chapter, but to be quite honest, I couldn't even figure out where to _begin_ with Jackson finding out and dealing with things. So I did research, and everything that's about to happen to Lisa is medically sound, as far as I can tell.**

**2. This is obviously not the last chapter. I got over my apathy and was hit with a ton of new ideas, so I can either end the story soon or I can keep it going into another sequel, if readers are interested. Let me know.**

**3. This chapter is completely un-betaed and there's a lot about it I don't like. So I'm sorry that it gets kind of weird in places, but I decided to just post it and move on.**

**4. The major OCs are going to be separated from JxL after this chapter. I plan on following both groups , but if people really aren't interested in hearing about Caleb, Ben, Jamie, and Nik, I could skip it. Just keep in mind that JxL are a little bedridden and drugged up, so if I just focus on them, it might drag a bit.**

**5. I will do my best to stop having two months between chapters, and since I couldn't send previews (because spoilers), I have a side story mostly written for the chapter 36 reviewers.**

**REVIEWERS:**

**AgentBadass- **There will be more JxL to come! Love the profile pic, by the way.

**Perhaps-A-Star-** And I hope this lives up to your best hopes. :)

**KnoKnayme- **:D

**Eva- **Lisa's definitely going to have lasting damage, and you're right. I could write Caleb and Ben dealing with it, but Jackson? I just had _nothing_.

**BW4eva- **Hope you like the new one.

**MademoiselleGF- **I'm so sorry for being a tease! I tried, and I was actually in agreement with you that it would be a better route.

**Megan S Lox- **I don't think he would have. I was thinking about it for those first few weeks, and the only response I could come up with is that he would have just shut down completely, refusing to think about pretty much anything.

**Pirate Gyrl- **I'm planning an actual sweet ending for this- maybe I've turned into a sap. I know how this one will end, but it's less known whether I'll write a sequel for it.

**Jesscah- **Oh, I've missed you! Thank you so much for the support!

**Master of Evil Monkeyness- **Well, I hope you'll still enjoy it even though it's ending differently now.

**NoorLux- **Thanks so much!

* * *

**Chapter 37: Lazarus**

"Get him ready for a transfusion." Caleb's dropped Lisa's hand, snapping his attention to Thomas as he stormed into the room with a large box, Ben lagging at his heels with assistance from Nikita. "We'll need it rapid."

Caleb rose to his feet, automatically rushing back to the office. He began hastily pulling the necessary supplies from the box, and it was then that it really hit him that they weren't with Jackson. He walked back out into the hallway in time to meet with the others. Thomas had Lisa in his arms, and Ben was leaning on Nikita again. "She's already-" he tried to explain, following them, but Ben cut him off.

"I outrank you both," he snapped, sitting on the table in between Jackson's bed and a new one that they must have brought in. Thomas carefully lay Lisa down again, pulling off her shirt and bra, tossing both aside. "And I say we're going to at least _try_- unlike you nihilists, I promised her she'd be fine, and you're not going to make a liar out of me." He motioned over to the other doctor. "Plus, he says Jackson's stable enough to wait and he thinks we can pull it off," he continued, holding out his arm. "Now take my fucking blood."

"She's dead," Caleb insisted, hating the words but feeling the need to say them all the same. "No pulse." Thomas shook his head calmly, bent over Lisa.

"I think it's there," he argued. "Probably low bp- it won't hurt to try." Caleb sighed heavily, but still hurried over to Ben, beginning to set up the equipment. Unlike Jackson, it was in his nature to follow, and both Ben and Thomas outranked him- Ben in the agency, Thomas as a doctor. Thomas turned to Jeff, who still sat by Jackson. "Go to the storage and get all the ice packs from the chest," he ordered, turning back to Lisa again as Jeff hurried out of the room.

"Unless we waste the blood," Caleb pointed out unsteadily, forcing himself not to look at his brother. Even as he argued, there was a small, stupid hope growing in his chest. He had overlooked Lisa's injury in the first place- it was completely plausible that he had overlooked a treatment as well. Plus, Thomas had been an army doctor before joining the agency, so Caleb knew his skills in both high-pressure operations _and_ "quick fixes" were far superior, not to mention his actual medical skills.

"Then we'll give William yours," Thomas replied, referring to Jackson, either pretending or actually not noticing that Ben had already revealed his name. "If worse comes to worse, I'll operate myself. He's stable for now, though." Caleb nodded, dutifully following Thomas' lead and pulling the bed away from the wall for better access. Jeff returned with an armful of ice packs, and Thomas motioned toward Lisa. "Put them under her," he ordered, nodding at Nikita to help out. Caleb nodded again, embarrassed. It hadn't even occurred to him to induce hypothermia- it would slow her circulation even more, and while there were definitely risks associated with the sudden temperature drop, at least she wouldn't be losing blood so quickly.

Thomas looked down at Lisa, frowning before turning to Caleb. "You open- I'm going to try something...different with the transfusion. Just clamp the ends for now." Caleb nodded obediently, pulling on a fresh pair of gloves, but he still had his doubts._ Fantastic- experimentation_.

He picked up a scalpel, sliding it across Lisa's inner arm with ease, barely even noticing the tissue spreading open like slicing butter. This was easy- with someone else giving the orders, he felt somehow more confident that he knew what he was doing. He was actually more curious about this 'different' technique Thomas was referring to, but he couldn't afford to look. He did instinctively pause to observe Lisa's reaction to the initial transfusion, but then decided that if she didn't react well, there was nothing they could do at this point, so he continued.

"I need you," he said to Nikita, catching the woman's attention. "Put on some gloves." Upon doing so, the redhead approached Caleb, nodding expectantly. "Grab two of those," he continued, motioning to the retractors, "and hold back the...edges of the incision." It was frustrating to have to give vague instructions, but thankfully, she seemed to understand exactly what he meant, retracting Lisa's skin and muscle to give Caleb a better view. She was already more useful than Jeff, who always seemed ready to faint at the sight of blood. But he did try- Caleb had to give him that.

Thankfully, didn't take too long to find one end of Lisa's artery, and as Caleb reached for a vascular clamp, he heard Ben snicker. And somehow, he knew it was meant for him.

"Chew me out later," Caleb snapped without looking up, shifting aside so Thomas could tend to the other end of the artery. Apparently it was time for Ben's version of hysterics- insults.

"I will," Ben replied, leaning upright against the wall. He should probably have been lying down, but they had to keep him elevated higher than Lisa for the transfusion to work. "And you'll take it, because it's _nothing_ compared to what Ja- your brother- would do to you if he knew."

Thomas looked over at Jeff again, seemingly ignoring the discussion between Caleb and Ben. "Now go back to the storage and grab the box of syringes," he ordered, and then glanced over at Caleb. "We're going to take extra from Alex and inject it into her." Caleb cringed, taking off his gloves and stepping back from Lisa. _Unfiltered_ whole blood? But he only nodded obediently and turned toward Ben, who dutifully held out his other arm.

"Not _now_," Caleb hissed at Ben as he grabbed his arm and held it in place, unable to ignore the other man's previous cheap shot. He knew it his statement could be misinterpreted as referring to the syringe transfusion, but Ben understood.

"Alright- we'll talk about it later," he agreed, handing the stethoscope over to Jeff as he came back in. Jeff set the syringes on Ben's lap and moved to the other side of the bed, focusing on monitoring Lisa's heart rate. Caleb nodded. He was still angry, but he knew Ben didn't mean any harm. It was just how he dealt with his own fear and stress- lashing out. It wasn't the first time he had found himself the target, and wouldn't be the last.

Burying his objection to the idea of injecting the raw blood into Lisa, Caleb instead focused his attention on the task at hand, quickly drawing Ben's blood and injecting it into Lisa's arm, tossing each syringe aside as he used it. The continuous, repetitive action didn't do much to distract him from his thoughts.

He _knew_ he had fucked up yet again- hell, she was still bleeding, which meant that her heart was pumping. And he had assumed it was just the internal bleeding leaking out. And of _course_ he hadn't been able to detect her pulse. Thomas had called it- her pressure had dropped lower than a physically detectable level. He just wasn't used to working without a monitor- no detectable pulse meant death, to him. And he would deal with his mistakes- just not when he was supposed to be focused on the operation.

Curious as to what Thomas' experimentation actually was, apart from the syringe transfusion, Caleb followed the tube in Ben's arm with his eyes, following it until it disappeared under Lisa. Oh. Thomas had placed the bag under her body, which would increase the pressure of the transfusion. That was actually kind of genius- although he could only hope the blood wasn't too close to the ice packs.

"That should be good," Thomas said, interrupting his musings. Caleb nodded, setting the box back on the floor before standing upright again, turning his attention to Lisa again. She still looked too pale, but it could be from the lowered body temperature. "Alright..." Thomas continued, pulling off his gloves. "We'll leave her open for now- we can sew her up when the circulation is better." He looked over at Caleb. "You get her warmed back up," he ordered, and motioned to Nikita, "and she and I will start your brother."

Caleb nodded, pulling out the ice packs. He could see that there were other broken vessels in her arm, but once they repaired the axillary, those leaks were secondary- they would heal eventually, leaving a nasty bruise and a whole world of pain for Lisa, but they wouldn't kill her. And the remaining arteries should give enough blood flow to her hand, so amputation likely wasn't an issue. Things were looking very much up. There was obvious nerve and muscle damage- only time would tell how it would impact her in the future- but he felt more confident now that she would live.

"Are you sure you can operate on him without me?" he asked softly, trying to resist the urge to label himself completely useless.

"Piece of cake, resident," Thomas teased, pulling off his gloves and wrapping Lisa's arm in a bandage around the clamps to hold it closed for the time being. "For what it's worth," he continued softly, closing up a small tear where blood was starting to slowly flow again, "You didn't make a bad call. We happened to pull this one off...we could have just as easily not, and then we would have been putting your brother at risk for failed grandeur. But it worked, so now we can guilt you." He nodded toward Ben. "Don't listen to that jackass."

Caleb nodded slowly. The only thing that was worth _anything_ at that very moment was that Lisa was still alive. That was the important thing. He could hate himself for giving up later, and worry about the further consequences of her injury, but for now...he was just relieved.

* * *

Ben rolled onto his side, burying his face in the pillow as he registered the bright light of the room from behind his eyelids. He refused to believe that he had passed out. It was more like an involuntary nap. Not that anyone was accusing him of doing so, but he was preempting their ideas.

Fine- he had passed out. So what? It was worth it, even if his limbs felt like they weighed a ton each, his head pounded, and his stomach was still slightly churning. Lisa had gotten the blood she needed, and-

Well, he actually didn't know how the rest of the morning had turned out, come to think of it. He lifted his head wearily, his gaze falling on Lisa, who lay next to him in the bed. She was covered almost head to toe in a heavy blanket, but a quick glance told him that she was breathing. He frowned slightly, remembering when Lisa's heart had actually stopped breathing and Caleb had performed CPR on her while trying warm her up again.

That had sucked. But it seemed she was alright now, so whatever. No, not whatever, but...whatever. He glanced up at Jeff, who was still monitoring her with that stethoscope. This kind of amateur shit had to be _killing_ Caleb, but Ben found it oddly fitting. The entire week had been nothing but half-assed plans and hoping for the best, and it seemed to have worked for them so far, even if he was fairly sure each individual had aged a handful of years in those few _hours_, let alone the last couple of days.

With a groan of effort, Ben rolled onto his other side. His vision was still too bleary to really see Jackson in the next bed, but that didn't really matter. He saw Caleb sitting on the floor between the two beds, leaning against the nightstand, and the man didn't look completely devastated or in any kind of shock- just tired. And if Caleb was acknowledging his own exhaustion, it was safe to assume that Jackson had lived too. They were kinda fucking awesome.

Ben released a sigh of relief he had held back for hours, maybe even while he was out. He could admit now- to himself- that he hadn't been nearly as confident as he had acted. But he knew Caleb. A few things had changed, but one was still going strong- the man needed to be led. He needed to see confidence, and if Ben had shown any of his own hesitation, Caleb would have picked up on it. Thankfully, Thomas had known what he was doing too, so they had been able to pull it off.

He noted with amusement and a bit of irritation that Caleb hadn't even noticed that he was awake. The man was engaged in conversation with Nikita, who was monitoring Jackson. But jealousy had never suited Ben very well, and he abruptly pushed it aside, leaving only curiosity.

"What time is it?" he asked, catching Caleb and Nikita's attention.

"About nine," Caleb replied, checking his watch. He leaned toward Nikita and said something to her that was too soft for Ben to hear, and she quickly left the room. Caleb lifted himself onto his knees, moving closer to Ben. "How are you feeling?"

"Hungover," Ben replied with a shrug. He didn't think he liked Doctor Rippner all that much. Or maybe he just didn't like follow up questions. He was nauseous and his body was tired, but time would fix it just fine- there was no point bringing it up. "Looks like you made a new friend, though," he pointed out, referring to how closely Caleb and Nikita had been sitting.

He shook his head when Caleb gave him a confused look, laughing weakly. "Never mind," he said, dismissing it. It was none of his business who Caleb flirted with. "How did it go with Jack?"

Caleb glanced back at his brother, and then turned back to Ben, his face almost blank. "Fine, I guess," he relayed, his business-like exterior fading with each word. "We removed a rib, but other than that, just stitches. His other wounds are pretty infected, though...he'll have to stay in bed for a while." He half-rolled his eyes. "Well, he _should_- we'll see if he actually does, though." Ben just nodded.

"He's going to love that," he observed, furrowing his brow. He was tempted to ask which one, just in case he ever really needed to know Jackson's weak spot, but figured he was better off not knowing. He'd probably just screw with him if he knew. "What about Marie?" It was obvious Jackson wasn't going to be on his feet to participate, not if they wanted to get the jump on her. He narrowed his eyes further at the guilty expression that had suddenly formed on Caleb's face, at his averted gaze. What did he do?

Before Caleb could respond, Nikita came back in the room, handing Ben a glass of orange juice. Ben rolled his eyes, sitting up. Medical bullshit was such an annoyance to him sometimes. He had no problem with medicine itself, and he was beyond grateful and in awe of what Caleb and Thomas had accomplished, but a quick glance at the bandage had told him that _his_ leg was stitched up now, and he didn't have to be a patient, for Christ's sake. But he thanked her all the same, drinking more of the juice than he had intended- it was unusually delicious. Could have used some vodka, though.

Ben turned his attention back to Caleb, who was obviously itching to tell him something, but just as obviously wasn't going to do it in company. So he set the glass on the nightstand, gesturing toward the door with his head. Caleb nodded, getting to his feet. He placed a hand on Ben's chest as he tried to get out of bed, pushing him back down before bending down and grabbing a pair of crutches.

_Oh for the love of..._Ben lifted his head to stare at Caleb, knowing by the defiance in the other man's eyes that his own disdain was coming through loud and clear. Couldn't he just gimp it? Unfortunately, Caleb's silent insistence was louder, and Ben reluctantly accepted the crutches. _He_ was obviously on the sidelines for Marie, as well. As Caleb would say- _fantastic_.

"So what do you have me on?" Ben asked after the two men left the room, hobbling unsteadily on his crutches. He felt ridiculously uncoordinated, and a strange urge to sing "If I Only Had a Brain". Whatever it was had to be pretty decent, which meant it was probably illegal- he hardly felt anything in his leg. Or would it technically be legal since a doctor had given it? But Caleb wasn't a licensed doctor, so- _fuck off. Not important_. And he was scolding his own brain. It _had_ to be good shit.

"Morphine," Caleb replied shortly, shoving his hands in his pants pockets as he walked, swaying slightly as he intentionally walked slower for Ben's sake. He kept his head bowed, as though Ben were already chastising him, continuing their promised conversation from earlier.

But Ben had never been that angry with him. He had mostly used it as an excuse to push Caleb harder, make him more determined, and the rest was a result of his own fear. Not that he could tell him _that_. So he had to keep up the act, clenching his jaw in apparent silent disapproval. It wasn't that hard, actually- he was irritated that both Rippners had seemed to forget what a team was for. Or in taking on Jackson's role as their leader, Caleb had received his latest insistence for doing everything himself. Whatever the reason, that mindset was the real threat, not the mistakes.

Leading definitely didn't suit Caleb, and so Ben had felt the need to step in and take control himself. It wasn't a role that he enjoyed, playing Jackson, but it was necessary, so he did it. And he would keep doing it until Jackson himself was awake and ready to work again.

"Fill me in," he said quietly as the two settled into chairs on Thomas' porch, wishing that they had their cigarettes. He tapped his fingers absently on the arm of the chair, lighting up with pure joy when Caleb tossed a pack onto his lap. _Jeff_. "Oh, he's beautiful," Ben commented, simultaneously lighting two cigarettes with the lighter that quickly followed the pack and passing one to Caleb. "I don't suppose he brought us steak too, did he?"

"I can make you something if you're hungry," Caleb offered with a faint laugh. Ben shook his head, taking a drag.

"I'll starve, thank you," he retorted, grinning as he momentarily stepped out of character. "But I'll take you up on it when I'm in the mood for watery instant mac and cheese." He tossed the pack and lighter back to Caleb, who scoffed.

"I've gotten better," he insisted softly. "I added peas." _Disgusting_.

"We'll see," Ben replied, still smiling. He missed this. But it wasn't exactly the time for nostalgia and light conversation, and so he quickly sobered. "So...?"

"Well," Caleb began, staring out into the street, "from what Jeff told me, The Pointe is a madhouse right now. I already sent him to get the tape from the doors and retrieve some of the luggage in case they do room searches or something." Ben nodded- having Jeff walk through the hotel with a bag of weapons seemed fairly risky to him, but Caleb was right- it was better than the alternative. "I have no idea if Spencer's there or not."

"Yeah," Ben replied casually, stretching out. His body was so stiff. "I was really asking what you did." He turned to Caleb, daring him to play dumb. But Caleb was better than that, and merely swallowed hard, looking nervous.

"She called," he explained. "And I didn't know what else to do, so when she said she wanted Jackson and Jamie at her place tomorrow...I agreed."

Ben exhaled audibly, dropping his head back onto the chair. Again, Caleb had done the right thing- it would have looked too suspicious to refuse- but it was yet another unstable plan, to say the least.

"We're going to have to wake up Jackson, aren't we?" Caleb asked nervously, gripping the back of his neck. "Don't we need his approval?"

_No_. "Yeah," Ben replied, lying through his teeth. Generally, this kind of thing just shouldn't be done without his go ahead, which suddenly occurred to Ben was ironic. The agency was supposed to bypass the red tape and formality, but they definitely had a process of their own.

A job would normally require a director's approval, which they couldn't get for obvious reasons. Manager would be the next best, and if that wasn't an option, a lead could confirm it. But this was too big a job for that- they needed Jackson, plain and simple. Or at least, Ben had to pretend that they needed his approval to keep up appearances. The approval was already there, but he was the only one who knew that for the moment. Really, they just needed the codes, and he was fairly sure Jackson was the only one among them who knew what they were.

"Jamie's already on her way- she sent the rest back to New York," Caleb was continuing. "She'll be there tomorrow afternoon. And Matthieu will be waiting at the airport."

"_Oh_," Ben replied, his voice rising somewhat in false surprise. "So she wants to kill you both before you even get to the ranch. Creative, if not a bit chickenshit." Ben had been there a few times with Robert, and he knew damn well that they were never _met_ at the airport, especially not by Marie's brother.

It was interesting that she was having Jamie come along, but maybe it was as simple as keeping up appearances herself, although Ben wasn't sure why she was bothering, since she had broken protocol already. And she had to know that Jackson would know exactly what Matthieu's presence meant, or maybe she thought she was too clever and above suspicion. Leads almost always traveled with the manager for debriefings after a job. It was rather cold to mark Jamie simply for being Jackson's second, but no one would accuse Marie of being compassionate. Christ, that woman was _twisted_. It had usually served their purpose just fine, but now that her wrath was turned on them, it more than sucked.

"I guess," Caleb replied impatiently, gesturing in agitation with his free hand. "We can handle it, whatever- stop acting like _him_ and say what- wait," He cut off his own rambling, narrowing his eyes. "Were you pissed that I was talking to Nikita?" Ben attempted a reply, but all that came out were a few unrelated words- Caleb had hit him with at least three, maybe four, different issues in complete rapid-fire, leaving him somewhat blindsided and trying to address all at once. "She kind of saved their lives, in case you didn't notice. I wasn't going to be rude."

"Good for her," Ben replied, implying that he couldn't care less anymore. Yes, Caleb's familiarity with her had bothered him in the first few seconds of morphine haze, but he had gotten over it and there wasn't any point in talking about it anymore- if there ever was. "I wouldn't give her _that_ much credit, though- she couldn't really have done much without you and Thomas, you know."

Ben didn't mean to sound so short, or so dismissive of Nikita- he knew Caleb would misinterpret the situation completely. He didn't dislike her in the slightest, but when he had thought Caleb was actually hitting on her, he had assumed the man was continuing his weird habit of going for the women that weren't good enough for him. But it had been the fog of drugs and blood loss- of course Caleb hadn't been hitting on her. The idea of him flirting with another woman at a time like this was so _asinine_ that he was more embarrassed than anything else, and he'd rather they just dropped it.

"And I wouldn't give myself much credit," Caleb shot back, and Ben took another drag, frustrated. Lashing out at Caleb had seemed appropriate at the time, but now that it was over, he had absolutely no desire to feed into yet another guilt trip. The man needed a fucking passport to travel around that vast self-loathing.

"You're right," he replied, his words dripping with sarcasm. "Any one of us could have cut her open, found the artery, and- I'm assuming- sutured her up. And I'm sure Jeff was super helpful at taking out that rib. Not to mention Jack injecting _himself_ with-"

"I almost killed her," Caleb snapped, interrupting Ben's rant. Ben shrugged, dismissing him. He had already known Caleb's response before the words left his mouth, and he was ready.

"So did I," he replied, ignoring Caleb's unimpressed scoff. "I saw how much blood she had lost, but I thought the IV would do the trick until she could get help. You took a look and knew what was wrong, and if I had spoken up earlier..." He trailed off, giving Caleb a pointed look. It was the truth. Ben had been wrong, and Caleb would have known better right away. He didn't believe for a second that Caleb would have simply ignored Lisa's injury if he knew the extent of it just because Jackson needed help, too.

"But you don't have medical training, so that's-"

"And _you_ don't have field experience, so you had no reason to think about blood pressure dropping lower than a detectable level, am I right? You're used to monitors and shit, and you're used to being told what to do, right? Or do...what year are you...?"

"First," Caleb replied absently after a pause. He didn't even seem to be listening to Ben, but the taller man knew he was.

"First year residents operate alone?" Ben sighed, taking a deep drag of his cigarette. He suddenly wished he had brought that juice with him. Between his exhaustion, the cigarette, and all the talking, his throat was irritatingly dry. "You can't keep kicking your own ass about this shit," he continued, his previously combative tone dissolving into something more compassionate. "That's what the rest of us are here for, remember? We had your back. And still have it."

Caleb dropped his face into his palm, practically deflating as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked like his brother, and Ben knew that he had 'won'. It was very similar to Jackson's 'fuck you for being right' gesture. The only thing that was missing was the 'fuck you' part- the narrowed-eye sidelong glance.

Caleb got the point, and there was no reason to prolong the conversation and make him feel the need to apologize or completely beat his own message to death. "We look like a pair of murderous hobos," Ben noted in a weak attempt to lighten the mood. And they did. Both were shirtless- Caleb's bare skin smeared in various places with dried blood that he might want to consider attempting to wash off, and he looked completely beaten into the ground with exhaustion, not to mention the faint bruising on his face from his encounter with Robert. Ben didn't look much better, he knew, and he was fairly sure that jeans with one long leg, one torn off at the knee wasn't going to be the next fashion statement.

Unfortunately, Ben's pathetic attempt didn't work, and he found himself resting his jaw in his free hand, slowing inhaling the smoke. They had gotten lucky once- hell, 'lucky' was putting it extremely mildly. What were the odds it would happen again? He knew he could very well be sending Caleb and Jamie to their deaths, but there really wasn't another option that he could see. They couldn't run- even though they could likely hide safely until they could regroup, what possible good would it do? It would only make it infinitely harder to get into Marie's fortress. They had the smallest of windows, and with it, a slim fucking chance.

Ben suddenly wished Jackson could magically regenerate. Not because he would be of any help or have a better idea, but because frankly, the guilt and concern was his problem, and Ben was more than ready to hand the reins of responsibility right back over to him.

He shook his head roughly, as though that would somehow shake the doubts from his head, but all it did was make him somewhat dizzy. There was no point in worrying- this _was_ the best opportunity they would have, and it wasn't like Marie had an _army_. "We'll need to send Jeff, too," he thought out loud, the idea suddenly occurring to him. Caleb or Jamie would definitely have to kill Matthieu before they got to the ranch, and Marie would be more than a bit tipped off that something was wrong if she saw that they were missing someone significant. "I'll talk to him."

Convincing Jeff to go along probably wouldn't be easy, unless the man had just given up all efforts of being removed. It wasn't that Jeff was a coward- he just...wasn't on their level. He didn't kill, and generally didn't put himself out on the line like they did. It wasn't his place.- he didn't have an alias, didn't really know how to fire a gun, or anything like that. But really, all he had to do was park the damn car while Caleb and Jamie were going into the ranch. Obviously, Marie couldn't see him, but they had to make her think it was still Matthieu and he had just failed his assignment.

He looked over to see Caleb nodding, and was grateful that at least the man didn't bother looking nervous or worried. Caleb was in his best place- he was following orders and it wasn't his responsibility to worry about the _ifs_ just yet. Lucky bastard.

"Jackson should be awake in an hour or so," the shorter man explained, getting to his feet. "Don't know how coherent he'll be, but we have time." Ben nodded and looked up at Caleb. He instinctively grabbed the man's hand, frowning. He just wasn't fucking used to this role, being the one responsible for sending another into danger.

But he just as quickly remembered that he couldn't show Caleb the hesitation. Caleb needed orders, not indecision. So Ben's frown quickly morphed into a grin. "Take a shower," he said, winking at the amusement in those wide blue eyes. "You look like shit." As the words left his mouth, it occurred to him just how many times someone had taken charge of the man in the past few days. 'Take a shower', 'get some sleep', Jackson watching over him when he had passed out, Ben ordering him breakfast, and those were just off the top of his head. Just another thing about Caleb that hadn't changed- Jackson was wrong- he was the baby of their trio.

Caleb scoffed. "And you're a beauty queen," he replied, pulling from Ben's grip to dig in his pants pocket. "Here," he said, tossing Ben's phone and the pack back into his lap. "You've been popular this morning."

Ben cringed as he traced the edge of his phone with this finger. He glanced up at Caleb again, trying to read in the man's eyes whether or not he had opened the phone or answered it. He had obviously been answering Jackson's phone, so there was a chance that he had done so for Ben's as well. But Caleb showed no traces of the accusation or suspicion that would have come from peeping.

Ben nodded. "I'm popular every morning," he quipped, taking another drag. "Even more at night, though." Caleb just shook his head, walking back in the house after throwing back an irritating reminder to use the crutches.

Ben chuckled dryly as the other man disappeared, using the embers of his cigarette to light a new one. With another glance behind him to make sure he was alone, he finally opened his phone. 15 missed calls, and probably a nasty message to accompany each. At least, probably one for each of the 12 missed calls from Spencer.

Ben worked his cigarette as he listened to the increasing frustration in each voicemail. Yes, he had been avoiding her for days now. He wasn't even supposed to be talking to her in the first place. And in an hour, if Caleb was correct, he was finally going to have to come clean and face the wrath his double dealing wrought.

* * *

"Do you swear that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

Jackson glanced up at the man...Mr...Kinkaid?, who was towering over him, and his heart caught in his chest as he realized that the lawyer's eyes were _black_. Not just his irises...the entirety of his eyes. He blinked slowly, and opened his mouth to respond in the affirmative, even though he knew it was a lie. He was beyond help from any God- they all were.

But nothing came out. Well, not words anyway. He cringed at the inhuman slur of syllables that flowed from his mouth, and tried to speak again. Nothing. Just that same chilling moan. He locked eyes with Caleb, who sat in the stands behind their mother. He heard the panic screaming in the younger man's eyes- _do something_.

Jackson gripped his own knees, wanting so badly to soothe his brother. He _had_ to make it right. But as he looked up to tell Kinkaid that _no_, every answer he was going to give was going to be complete bullshit and that Cathy was innocent, he saw the man already nodding.

"No further questions," the lawyer told the judge, a smug smile on his face, and Jackson whipped back to face his mother as the blackened creatures that had suddenly appeared dragged her out of the courtroom. The woman didn't even look back at her sons, her posture as confident as Jackson had remembered. But..._no_! She _wasn't_ the damn killer.

Jackson tried to stand, but he was immobile in his chair. He called out to confess, but he only heard that disgusting whirl of dead moans.

"Jackson?" He snapped his head over to see Caleb sitting in the car next to him, and quickly realized that the courtroom, the demons, all of it- gone. They were back in the dimly lit parking lot of Phoenix Fixtures, back in Roberts, in the car they were too young to be driving, smoking the cigarettes they were too young to be consuming, and hiding in a way they were too old to do. He frowned. James wasn't dead, Cathy wasn't in prison. But he was still useless.

Jackson just shook his head again, letting his gaze shift to the radio. They couldn't go home. If James wasn't dead, Cathy wasn't safe. But there was nothing either of them could do to help her, and so they hid in the dark parking lot, drinking.

_"You can see their shadows wandering off somewhere_

_They won't make it home but they really don't care_

_They wanted the highway_

_They're happier there today."_

He took a drag of his cigarette, and looked back at his brother. He heard the words, the words he had said that night in 1998, but his mouth didn't move.

"We'll just go. If either of us say the word...we're gone. No matter what." And they would. It had seemed like such a soothing idea at the time. If it ever got too difficult, if one of them couldn't handle it anymore, they would leave. It didn't matter where- the destination was completely irrelevant. But they would be together.

He waited silently for Caleb to nod as he had back then, but the other man only smiled, his eyes black. "You're pathetic," his brother replied, but it wasn't his voice. It was soft, feminine, angry- it was Lisa. Jackson inhaled sharply at the sting of those words, but Caleb wasn't finished. The smile curled into a more taunting grin as his brother leaned over, his lips grazing Jackson's ear. "I'm not sorry," he whispered sweetly. "I want more than _this_."

Jackson gasped for air, feeling a crushing weight pressing down on his chest as Caleb swiftly exited the car. He couldn't stop him. He couldn't fucking _breathe_.

"It's okay," Ben murmured, leaning forward from his place in the back seat and placing a hand on Jackson's shoulder. "You still have us."

Jackson coughed, inhaling deeply as the oxygen rushed to his lungs. But he just as quickly gagged, dropping his head forward. The air was tainted, _rotten_. He didn't want it. _Get the fuck **out**_, he wanted to scream at the man, trying to hold his breath against the disgusting onslaught. How could Ben not notice it?

He turned to yell out at the unmoving man, but no one was there.

He jolted forward again as the screams and cries tore through his senses, the rotten air now laced with smoke. His eyes fixed on those burning buildings, and he became sickeningly aware of Caleb's fingers digging into his forearm. It wasn't right. It would never be right again. All those people...

Jackson wanted to avert his eyes. He wanted to cry, but there was no point. He couldn't put life in reverse, couldn't safely land those planes full of innocent people back at the airport. He could only watch, and silently resolve that he could never sit back and let it happen again. There would never be a morning like the one that had greeted the twins in their first few weeks in New York.

The crush of noises spun around him, but the voices became more subdued, more...cheerful. The screams of the sirens turned to music. The songs overlapped, weaving in and out of each other into a medley of his past, from Fastball to Johnny Cash, from Depeche Mode to Marilyn Manson and O.D.B.

Jackson took a small sip of his whiskey and walked toward the lit doorway. It was quite the party- hundreds of people mingled, talking and laughing with each other. His mother, his father, Caleb, Cheryl, Ben, Jamie, Rick, his uncle, Mitch, their fourth roommate at NYU, Sylvie, the Bed-Stuy drug dealer and bird enthusiast, and countless others. Even if he didn't remember their names, he knew every face. The people he had wronged, the people he hadn't done a damn thing to, and everyone in between. His entire life, except for one person.

Jackson shook his head and turned around, walking further into the dark room in which he had been standing. It wasn't his scene. He dropped onto the familiar couch, which still smelled faintly of beer from when he had thrown that bottle. He groaned when he felt the jostling of someone falling on the cushion next to him. Couldn't he just be left alone?

"Aren't you coming?" Lisa asked, and Jackson turned his head on the couch back, facing her. He shook his head- he preferred it in there, and honestly, it was better that way. He wasn't much of a joiner.

"It's alright," she insisted, as though she heard his thoughts. "It's the past...it's over." She leaned forward, pressing a firm kiss to Jackson's lips as she tugged his arm, pulling him to his feet and back in the direction of the frenzy. "You're a good person- we'll be fine, remember?"

_"We'll be fine."_

* * *

"I just feel _bad_ for him." Jackson furrowed his eyebrows, squeezing his eyes closed even tighter. Why the _hell_ was Ben in his room? Through the fog, he could still hear faint, feminine whispers, but he couldn't understand them. His emotions churned, melding together into an unidentifiable mass. Must have been one hell of a dream. And one hell of a night.

"Why?" _Oh_...Ben was bothering Caleb. They could at least have the decency to go out in the living room. Leave him to suffer in peace, for Christ's sake. How much had he _drank_?

"Because he has to stand there and act like he feels all sorry for the asshole and how 'we won't rest until we find those responsible.'" Jackson frowned, his confusion growing again. When had Ben learned that Obama impression? No...more importantly..._Jesus_.

Jackson tried to groan at his own stupidity, but it only came out as a rush of silent air. They weren't in Jackson and Caleb's room because it was goddamn _2010_ and some other poor bastards currently inhabited that shitbox. _Keefe_. Ben was talking about Keefe. The job. _Leese_.

Jackson slowly opened his eyes, but shut them just as soon as the slivers of bright light pierced him.

"-_know_ he just wants to say 'listen, cracker bitches- let me just say, the man was a _terrorist_. You're _welcome_.'" Jackson rolled his eyes behind his lids. He highly doubted Obama would ever call anyone- _Christ_, he hurt all over. He turned his head away from where he thought the window was, struggling to open his eyes again.

"Cal-" he cracked out, trying to get his brother's attention, and he opened his mouth in a silent cry of pain as his voice caught in his throat and provoked a sharp cough. Were the drugs not working or what? _Lisa. Is Lisa alright?_

Jackson turned his head back around, trying to focus his vision as a familiar figure approached him. "Where is she?"

Caleb knelt in front of him, and even behind his hazy vision, Jackson could see that despite the obvious concern in his eyes, the man didn't move to inject him with anything. It suddenly occurred to him that he had been deliberately weaned off whatever drugs he had been on.

Caleb motioned behind him with his head, and Jackson could barely make out the figure laying in the nearby bed. "She's still out," his brother explained carefully- too carefully. "She's fine though." Jackson narrowed his eyes. He could practically hear another story coming from Caleb, as though the world had a overlaying dub track.

Caleb sighed heavily. "She's fine _now_," he insisted, obviously realizing that Jackson wasn't stupid. "She's just going to be tired for a while. And drugged up."

Jackson turned his head and squinted, trying to see Lisa, but he couldn't really make out any details. He wanted to get closer, to see for himself that she was indeed 'fine'. But Caleb already had a hand on his shoulder, holding him still. "Just let her rest," he implored. "You can't get up yet anyway."

Jackson nodded in reluctant surrender. He was _very_ good at waiting, actually, and knowing she was there was enough for the moment. His gaze traveling to Ben, who sat on the edge of Lisa's bed, staring at him. Something was obviously on _his_ mind too, but Jackson couldn't read it. He had never been as good at figuring Ben out.

"Why am I awake?" he finally asked in irritation, his voice still scratching his throat. There _had_ to be a reason. The throbbing in his chest told him quite screamingly that it was too soon for him to be off the painkillers. That could only mean- "What happened?"

"Jamie and I are meeting Marie tomorrow," Caleb explained, sitting down carefully on the edge of Jackson's bed. "She wants to see you, and-" Jackson just nodded again, cutting off the younger man. He didn't need it spelled out for him.

"No," he replied firmly, closing his eyes against the pain. _Mind over fucking matter...suck it up_.

Caleb's eyes flashed with exasperation. "I _have_ to go," he snapped, "It's the best-"

"I-" Jackson exhaled, trying to find the words, and winced again. "I know why," he insisted, and eyed Ben as the taller man came hobbling over. He grimaced in distaste as Ben gently lifted his head, helping him drink a glass of orange juice. It was practically liquid Nirvana, but at the same time...he felt like a damn _invalid_. And he definitely wanted something stronger.

"We can't just...kill her..." Jackson tried to explain, each word an effort. It was beyond frustrating- one of the few times he had paragraphs to say and of course it was when speaking was an excruciating chore. "We'll be...no better than Robert."

Jackson knew it was a 180 from his previous position, but he had been thinking about it on and off in those few hours before the attack on Keefe. To kill Marie on their own because they disagreed with her methods _did_ make them no better than Robert. In his opinion, they were more justified of course, but Robert probably thought that he had been perfectly right as well.

That wasn't to say that he didn't think Marie should be killed. But the decision couldn't be made by him. He just flat-out didn't have that authority. "We need-"

"We have it," Ben interrupted him, his voice disarmingly soft. "We have authorization."

The twins both looked at Ben, almost identical expressions of surprise on their faces. The only difference was that Caleb looked more confused and Jackson was already suspicious. Either Ben was talking out of his ass or the man had been talking to people that under normal circumstances, he would never be allowed to.

Ben's face lit up in realization. "I mean, she's sending Matthieu to meet them," he explained too quickly, as though he had just remembered. "That's enough, isn't it?"

Jackson narrowed his eyes, but before he could reply, Ben nodded. "She's already planning to kill you," he confirmed. "So it's self-defense, really." Jackson bit back a sigh, knowing all it would do was cause another stab of pain. He realized with disgust that he wasn't even surprised. After everything he had done for that woman, she would actually mark him over such petty bullshit, and it wasn't a surprise. Maybe it _was_ time to leave the agency- this wasn't the way things were supposed to be happening. Too much conspiring for- wait.

Jackson shot Ben a dark look. _What authorization_? They had _justification_, yes, but not authorization. Ben had obviously been talking about something else, and even in a mix of pain and haze, Jackson wasn't distracted that easily.

"Spencer gave me authorization," Ben explained to Jackson, not even needing the manager to demand a name. Jackson closed his eyes tightly, leaning his head back on his pillow. _Spencer_. The numerous reactions spun around in his head, dancing around the blur. Why the _hell_ was Ben talking to _her_? Why didn't Jackson know about this? What in God's name could possibly have earned him authorization from the _CIA_? And for the love of Christ, why _Spencer_?

Thankfully, Ben still didn't need to hear Jackson vocalize a response. He shifted on his knees, looking uneasy under the piercing stares. "When Marie ignored what I said about the Chechens," he explained, "I looked up Spencer." He grinned absently. "She's surprisingly easy to get aho- I had to know if the CIA knew," he quickly interrupted, noticing that Jackson wasn't at all in the mood for his sidetracking.

_Knew **what**_? Jackson didn't bother asking- he knew the question was obvious on his face. "We were told we were working with the government," Ben reminded him, "But I knew those guys were about as government as Marquis." Jackson half-rolled his eyes, not even bothering to ask who the hell Marquis was. Probably one of Ben's friends from the streets- not that it mattered.

"I was trying to figure out who was being lied to- all of us or some of us," Ben continued. "And as it turned out...some of us. I mean, Spencer said the CIA already knew the story was bullshit, and they were running their own op, trying to figure out who knew what, you know?"

Jackson shook his head. Ben's rambling was starting to meld together into a stream of muddled words. "Get to the point," he muttered, closing his eyes again.

"Alright- _very_ long story short, Marie knew. The group we were working with rivals the Solntsevskaya Bratva, and they're getting _bigger_. And they're supplying important guys. I mean, we're talking about the roots of a legit civil war," Ben explained, his voice grave.

"That doesn't make sense," Caleb cut in, and Jackson opened his eyes. "The Chechen mafia has ties with Al-Qaeda, right? Why would they want to _stop_ an American attack, especially one that could result in a war with Russia?"

Ben looked over at Caleb impatiently. "Because _they_ want to decide who's in power at the end of the war," he snapped as though the answer were obvious. "They aren't going to trust Americans to do it." He shrugged, his voice softening again. "And from what I've been told, the agency's importance has been exaggerated. They think they're working _with_ the CIA."

Jackson groaned. It actually made _sense_. Marie hated Russia. She had her reasons, but of _course_ she would ally with and aid a group that had a legitimate shot at a potential government takeover. Keefe was...nothing. He was just a pawn in a much larger game, a favor given by the Chechens in return for assistance- not that he didn't deserve what he got, but _Christ_- this new information was a _real_ mess.

"And of course the CIA would prefer things stay the way they are over some kind of takeover by the Chechens," Ben reminded Jackson, even though Jackson should already know. Jackson was actually grateful for the summary, even if he wouldn't admit it. His brain was just _not_ functioning at its normal level. "They know who they're dealing with now between the government and the various mafia gangs, but there's so much that they _don't_ know about this group..." He trailed off, looking at Jackson expectantly.

And then it clicked. "And we're supposed to take out this gang?" he asked miserably, just the idea seeming ridiculously overwhelming. To his dismay, Ben nodded.

"They want us to kill Marie and then you're supposed to take over," he explained, his voice soft again. Jackson closed his eyes yet again. His head was just spinning, his chest throbbing, and he honestly thought he might be sick. _Take over. **Director**._ There was no way in _Hell_ he was doing that.

Jackson took a deep breath in an attempt to calm both his anger and his stomach, but it only sent another stab of pain. "Why the _fuck_ am I hearing about this _now_?" he managed through clenched teeth, gripping the sheet tightly. It was just really hitting him that Ben had learned all this information by going behind everyone's back.

"You fucking lied to us," Caleb pointed out at the same time, his own voice darkened with anger, "And you _used_ me." Jackson looked up at him. He could definitely sympathize. It was obvious that Ben had put the original idea of killing Marie in Caleb's mind, sending him to be the one to convince Jackson. "Did you lie about the hit?"

Ben laughed wryly. "You think Marie would keep me alive when she knew that_ I_ knew about the Chechens?" he asked, and then immediately sobered. "I didn't tell _you_ because you aren't in the agency and have no need to know," he added, his voice now steady. He looked down at Jackson. "And I didn't tell _you_ because I thought you wouldn't have believed me. You were so fucking obedient that you needed to see for yourself what she could do- I couldn't risk it. You know I'm right."

Jackson felt a quick urge to refute that, but in all honesty, he wasn't sure what he would have thought if Ben had blindsided him with this information before the hit, before Marie had so flippantly sent them into such a precarious second attempt. In fact, it was starting to occur to him that she had never intended for him to make it out of there alive, because if Ben _was_ telling the truth- which Jackson was sure he was- Marie had to know that Jackson wouldn't have been so willing to go along with a Chechen mafia alliance. She might have been glad to seize the opportunity, much like when she had used Ben's refusal to kill Lisa as a reason to mark him.

It wasn't that Jackson had any love for the Russians- he definitely wasn't fond of those in charge. But he had to agree with the CIA on this one- the challengers in a coup like this were so much more dangerous, because they had something to prove, they were so much less known, and they were attacking an established power- higher stakes meant bigger risks.

"And Spencer wants to talk to you. About Lisa." _No she doesn't- she **has** to_. Jackson groaned again, but let Caleb and Ben assume it was a result of his pain. So they had figured out it wasn't Lisa's body in the house. He had known this was a possibility, and he was ready...even if he didn't particularly _want_ it.

Jackson shifted his attention over to his brother, and frowned. The man looked terrible. None of them looked good, but Caleb could do something about it. And he was positive that Caleb hadn't slept since his drinking incident, which was...at least 24 hours prior. "Get some sleep," he mumbled, pressing his head against the pillow. "You're leaving in a few hours."

Caleb tilted his head in confusion, but then nodded. And Jackson found himself grateful yet again that lengthy explanations were unnecessary. Caleb couldn't bring a gun through the airport, and it would definitely be easier to take care of Matthieu if he was armed. They would have to overnight a weapon to a Dallas armory and he could pick it up, and then head back to the airport to meet Jamie and Matthieu.

Of course, Jackson had his ulterior motives for sending Caleb out of the room, but the reason he gave was good enough that neither man seemed suspicious. The truth was that Jackson did _not_ want Caleb to be around when Spencer came. Jackson had learned two years prior that Agent Spencer had used to live under a different name- Cathy Rippner.

He had _never_ sought her out. Finding her had been an accident, really. Back when Marie still lived in New York, Jackson had simply been leaving her condo just as the other woman had been walking through the lobby. He had known Marie was about to meet with Spencer, and he didn't think it was _that_ far of a stretch to assume that Cathy and Spencer were one and the same. He had quickly averted his gaze, and thankfully, the woman seemed just as disinclined for a reunion. She had definitely seen him, but she didn't make any effort to talk to him, either.

Jackson knew that his mother had to have been involved in _something_ before he and Caleb had been born, maybe after as well, just for the simple fact that a felon couldn't merely change her name and join the CIA. After he had really thought about it, it even made sense, consider that her brother had been in the agency. It wasn't that much a leap of faith, really.

But he never asked anyone. He didn't care. She had walked out of them, and he was damned if he was going to make any kind of effort to chase her. And he had never thought that they would actually _meet_. After all, she was a few steps over him- compared to her, he was fairly low on the chain. Jackson doubted she was any happier with the idea meeting him than he was her. It was just necessary, really.

But that wasn't the point. Jackson was a professional, and he would meet her if he had to, but not Caleb. Maybe if the last few days hadn't happened, but after that confession, the rage, the confusion- Jackson was not about to sit back and let those two come face to face. He would tell him eventually, of course, when things had calmed down and everything...maybe Caleb would _want_ to meet her. But he wasn't going to force him. And hell, she probably didn't want to talk to _him_.

"Do you want me to put you under again?" Caleb asked, getting to his feet. Jackson shook his head weakly.

"I want to hear the long story," he lied easily, and glanced up at Ben. Realization danced in the man's green eyes, but he quickly played along, his body language shifting into anxiety. Ben shot Caleb a pitiful glance, as though he were asking Caleb to save him from Jackson, but the younger twin just walked out of the room, shaking his head at the silent exchange.

"What's up?" Ben asked, giving up the act and sitting in Caleb's previous spot.

"Have Jeff book the flight and call Spencer," Jackson ordered, feeling his pulse quickening. He didn't want to be dealing with this shit. Ben thought about it, and then nodded.

"Flights," he corrected Jackson. "Jeff's going too- I talked to him." Jackson was silent for a moment, and then caught on. Jeff would take Matthieu's place as the driver. _Great, fine, whatever_. "And I already got the number of the cleaners."

"Give him some tech, too," Jackson ordered. Marie definitely had valuable information on her hard drives, and they needed someone to extract it.

Ben nodded. "I can do it- you want me to go with them?" Jackson was about to refuse, but then it occurred to him that it was exactly what he wanted, so he only nodded. Having both men gone? Perfect. Ben had accompanied the twins to various prison visits- he was definitely going to recognize their mother when he saw her, and Jackson wanted nothing more than to avoid the surprise, the questions, the concern- and in Ben's case, probably the smart-ass remarks.

"I'll bring Nik, too- get her another couple grand for her efforts." Ben handed Jackson a pad and pen, and the manager quickly scribbled down the codes into Marie's house. He then handed it back off, grimacing.

"Sure. Call Trudi, work it out. Now give me the morphine." Jackson knew it probably wasn't a good idea to be taking drugs that would alter his mind before a meeting like this, but he also knew that the pain building in his chest was bad enough to keep him from being completely coherent anyway. It also had the additional benefit of preventing him from _really_ embracing the idea of coming face to face with his mother for the first time in years. He knew he wasn't as twisted up about it as he should be, but he wanted more. He didn't want to _care_. "Unless you've got something stronger."

In all honesty, when Jackson had first agreed to help Lisa, he had had ulterior motives. He wanted to throw it back in the government's face, show them that they couldn't use innocent people to cover their own problems. He knew damn well it wasn't just DHS who was pinning the blame on her- the federal investigators- Spencer- must have gone along with it as well to keep the heat off the agency. And that wasn't right.

He knew that Lisa's 'death' had caused a massive problem- the feds couldn't safely pin it on her anymore. Yes, they could publicly claim that Lisa had been behind the attack, but they had to realize that Lisa had participated in it, that she was alive and not willing to roll over. If they did go ahead with blaming her, they couldn't know that someday she wouldn't come public with the truth.

Jackson had always known it was a risk, known that once the feds realized that Lisa wasn't dead, there was a chance that they would also put two and two together and assume the agency was involved. After all, where else would Lisa get the resources to pull off a plan like that? And he was more than ready to stand- or lay as it were- in front of Spencer- or whomever- and firmly tell them that it was not alright to ruin the lives of innocent people just to cover their own ass.

And then...in all likelihood, he was finished with it. He had said it more than once, and he still meant it. If he couldn't trust the people he worked with, if they followed their own agendas and used each other- plotted to kill each other- then it would never work. And this disaster...he felt as though everything was slipping through his fingers. The smallest truths he had known were lies.

But he wasn't about to make any final decisions, not when he was seized with pain, thrown into this new clusterfuck of conspiracies, and still half out of his mind on morphine. For the moment, he just needed some peace.

"Wait-" he muttered through clenched teeth, reaching out a hand to grab Ben's forearm, stopping him from injecting the drug into his IV. "Help me up."

Ben frowned, pulling away. "Cal said-"

"Ask me if I care," Jackson responded automatically, trying to use his grip as leverage to sit up. But that wasn't going to happen- he needed help. He was being ridiculous, and he knew somewhere that the entire thing was a bad idea, but there was only one source of peace that he could think of.

Ben sighed heavily, realizing that Jackson was determined. "Do you care?" he replied softly, following the script as he carefully pulled Jackson to his feet, grimacing in pain of his own. But Jackson didn't bother feeling guilty- if Ben really cared, he would have refused to help.

Jackson shook his head, leaning entirely on Ben as the taller man helped him cross those few feet to the other bed. "Thanks for asking, though," he managed, waiting for Ben to move the plastic saline bottle and re-hang it on the headboard so his IV wouldn't be yanked out of his vein.

"I'll have her come tomorrow," Ben offered, referring to Spencer as he helped Jackson lay down next to Lisa. "She can wait another day, and..." He paused, grinning- the brief sentimental moment was already over. "You're pretty much useless right now."

Jackson just nodded, not bothering to retort. He turned his head over at Lisa, who lay on her stomach, making sure that he wasn't actually touching her. He didn't want to risk waking her up, after all- just...wanted to be closer. He could barely see her under that blanket, covered up to her closed eyes, and was pretty sure he never wanted to know exactly what had happened after he had passed out.

The spiraling thoughts throbbing in Jackson's skull began fading away again, and he knew Ben had finally given him the drug. He tilted his head back against the pillow, sliding his hand under the blanket to graze Lisa's. It was as much peace as he could have, given the circumstances, but it was enough.

* * *

**Oh, I really hope you guys don't hate this too much. I had planned for a while to have Spencer be Jackson and Caleb's mom, but I've been nervous to unveil it. I hope it's not too much. Reviewers get the real, longer version of the conversation between Jackson and Caleb in their car.**


	39. I'll Stand by You

**Okay, this is a _very _short chapter compared to the past three- it's about half as long. I guess it's technically filler, but I actually like this one. Based on the few reviews I got, I decided to follow the OC's as well as stick with JxL, so there's going to be some bouncing back and forth. I hope you guys like this chapter better than the last one, and thanks a million times over to those who took the time to give feedback.**

**Eva**- Thanks for catching that! There are quite a few little parallels in the dialogue thrown in here and there, especially between Jackson and Caleb. Unfortunately, this story is going to end before the group even meets up again- we're in the last handful now.

**Queen of the Weasels- **Wow. Thanks so much! I've run out of ways to say that even though sometimes it seems like I'm focusing more on Ben and/or Caleb than Jackson or Lisa, it's usually because they give insight into Jackson and help guide Lisa along the way (and provide a bit of comic relief). So it's always great to find out that a reader understands that! :D

It's nice that the research that's been going into the chapters is appreciated! It's always bothered me when Hollywood gives characters "flesh wounds" they bounce right back from, but I'm starting to understand _why _they do it. After I wounded my characters, I was kind of stuck with "well, what now? Some of them can't do much...". Glad you like it!

**BW4eva- **I hope you end up enjoying Mama Rippner. She will be upon us very soon, and in my head, she's going to give us that last little bit of insight into exactly why Jackson is who he is. (Little hint- despite his previously stated concerns, he's definitely _not _his dad)

I don't plan on having Jackson find out what actually went down with Lisa. Partially because he doesn't want to know, but mostly because like I said to Eva (and I'll post more about it at the end of the chapter), the story will end before they meet up again.

**Perhaps-A-Star**- :D Thanks! I can't resist the temptation to throw in some of Ben's back story here and there because I love how different his origins are than the twins' (and Lisa's).

* * *

**Chapter 38: I'll Stand by You**

"Cal! Get up, we're going!" Caleb rolled onto his back, rubbing his closed eyes with the heel of his palm as Ben's yelling interrupted his uncomfortable sleep. He sat up from his place on the floor, opening his eyes to look at the man hobbling toward him.

"What?" he mumbled sleepily, glancing at the nearby wall clock. His hair was still damp from his shower- he couldn't have been out for more than a few minutes. "Going where?"

"Dallas," Ben replied quickly. "We're driving, so wake up." He looked over at Nikita, who was staring in confusion from her place on the couch. "And you're coming too." The redhead woman shook her head, adjusting her hair. She snapped at him in Russian, and Ben scowled.

Caleb moved to a chair, watching the action unfold in front of him. He of course wanted to know why the hell they were suddenly driving to Dallas, but neither New Yorker was paying attention to him at the moment. They were arguing in rapid-fire Russian, and neither looked pleased.

Even after all the years he had known Ben, it still caught him off-guard when the man transitioned into the language with such ease. Obviously Ben used sporadic words and phrases, mostly insults and irritations muttered under his breath, but Caleb rarely heard him actually conversing. His Russian was definitely better than Caleb's French, and likely better than Jackson's as well- Caleb heard no thinking pauses, no stumbles.

It was probably partially because Russian was Ben's first language. Caleb knew he hadn't learned English until he was in school, but he couldn't remember when that was. But still...Ben had to have people with whom he usually conversed, because his fluency seemed high for a 28-year-old who rarely spoke the language since his single digits.

Caleb raised his eyebrow in confusion and amusement as Ben abandoned his crutches and practically leapt at the woman, pinning her to the couch and holding her face in his hands. He was obviously begging her, and Nikita was having none of it. Caleb concentrated, trying to remember the little Russian Ben had taught him over the years and also trying to find those words.

He finally recognized numbers. Those were easy. He heard Ben offer up twenty, "Dvadtsat," and figured they were talking money now. Nikita came back with "Tridstat," thirty, and Ben replied, "Sorok." Forty. _Master negotiator_. Nikita paused, and Ben lifted his gaze to meet Caleb's eyes, a wicked grin on his face as he continued speaking to her.

With an insult Caleb recognized as 'fuck all your mothers', one of Ben's favorites, Nikita pushed him onto the floor and got to her feet. Caleb shook his head, holding out a hand to help Ben stand again. "Smooth," he remarked, picking up the discarded crutches. "Why are we driving to Dallas all of a sudden?"

Ben let himself fall back onto the couch. "Jack gave me the codes, and _just_ as he's about to pass out, of course he conveniently remembered that there are multiple exits out of Marie's place, and I had to fucking _pry _those from him. So that means Nik and I have to cover them, which is-"

"And what did you offer her?" Caleb interrupted, sitting on the coffee table. He got the idea. They needed multiple guns, and the easiest way to transport those across state lines was by car. He glanced over at the redhead, who was staring out the window with her arms crossed. He was unsure of whether or not she had actually agreed to help or if Ben just pissed her off.

"I started with a tiara and my body," Ben replied, rolling his neck to the side.

Caleb chuckled. "Would've sold me," he remarked, and Ben shrugged.

"That's because you're a whore," he replied matter-of-factly. "She's smarter- she held out for the money."

"Tell him what else," Nikita called over her shoulder, a matching grin on her face.

Caleb rolled his eyes. "My body too, right?" he asked, remembering that glint in Ben's eye. He shook his head as the man nodded. "You promised you wouldn't do that anymore," he continued, feigning betrayal.

"Oh calm down, Callieflower," Ben replied, his smile widening. "She wasn't interested anyway."

Caleb's jaw dropped as he snapped his head to shoot Nikita a hurt expression. "Well, fucking ow," he said, getting to his feet. "Are we waiting for something?"

Ben nodded. "Jeff's getting your car," he explained. "I figure he can stay here and keep an eye on the Cripple Club until Thomas gets back."

"What kind of club has two members?" Caleb asked, as Nikita sat in his place. "Shouldn't they be...the Disabled Duo?"

"Cripple Club sounds better," Ben insisted, whipping the pad of paper at Caleb, followed by a pen. Caleb shrugged, dropping onto the couch next to him.

"You just say so because you thought of it," he muttered, not really paying attention anymore. He instead used the time to scribble instructions for Jeff, leaving Ben and Nikita to argue as he rushed down the hall to make final inspections.

"Oh, for..." Caleb trailed off, frowning upon finding Jackson in Lisa's bed. Jackson smiled weakly, not quite as out of it as Ben had described.

"At least I asked for help," he mumbled, his voice light under the morphine's grip. Caleb nodded, grabbing the skin stapler from the nightstand and making his way to the other side of the bed, pulling back the blanket. He found himself wishing that Jackson _had_ passed out as he pulled on gloves and removed her bandage. They still hadn't closed her wound.

Caleb removed the bloody packing and tossed it into a nearby bowl. The sutures from previously were holding well, thankfully. All he had to do was close the wound, and that wouldn't take long.

"Are you going to make it back in time?" Jackson asked softly, and Caleb glanced over to see him staring intently at Lisa's shoulder, even the morphine not enough to distract him from the graphic wound. It took Caleb a moment to figure out what he was talking about, before realizing that Jackson was trying to distract himself and was referring to Caleb's job back at the hospital.

He nodded, climbing on the bed and onto his knees, straddling Lisa. "As long as I'm out of Dallas by the day after tomorrow, it's fine," he replied, biting on his lower lip. He still hadn't told Jackson about wanting to come back, but it didn't seem like an appropriate time to bring it up. It would distract him, but probably stress him out even more.

"What aren't you telling me?" Jackson asked, narrowing his eyes slightly, and Caleb chuckled softly. Still observant as hell, even half brain dead.

"Lots of things," he replied casually, turning back to Lisa so he could focus. He used one hand to press her wound together, creating a trail of staples across her skin with the other. "Maybe if I knew what exactly you were referring to..."

"Smart ass," Jackson muttered, watching Caleb's hands move across Lisa's shoulder.

Caleb laughed softly, quickly wiping Lisa's wound and placing a fresh bandage over the staples. "You could come visit when this is over," he offered, getting to his feet again. "Maybe for Christmas?"

He smiled weakly at his brother, now regretting that he had to catch that flight. It had been four years since they spent a holiday together, or more than a few days at any point, and now Caleb remembered why. He was just getting used to having him around, and the idea of leaving again, even after all of the tension, the hurtful confessions and insults they had thrown at each other in the past three weeks, actually made him begin hurting all over again.

Jackson nodded, and Caleb knew by the dullness in his eyes and the slight knit in his brow that the feeling was mutual. "I will," he replied softly, and Caleb heard the silent demand. _Don't get yourself killed_. He shot his brother a reassuring smile, pulling the blanket over Lisa again.

Caleb picked up the bowl. "See you in a few weeks, then," he said, setting the staple gun on the nightstand again. _We can handle it. Love you_. "I'll call you when it's done." Jackson nodded again, and Caleb felt his eyes on him as he walked out of the room. He set his jaw as he headed back to Ben and Nikita, knowing that this was his chance to earn a bit of redemption, to make his brother proud.

* * *

Caleb tossed against the uncomfortable headrest. He had never been able to really sleep in a moving car, but that had little to do with his unrest this time. His brain was too alive, his fourth, maybe fifth wind too strong.

"Goddamn it, man- stick to the plan," Ben snapped from next to him. Caleb opened his eyes from behind those stupid Wayfarers, smiling apologetically even though the man was watching the road. He knew he was supposed to be sleeping. They had been on the road for an hour, and still had nineteen left. They had twenty three hours until Jamie landed, which left absolutely zero room for a prolonged rest stop. This meant that they needed to trade off, which meant that Caleb was supposed to be sleeping so he could take over for Ben in a few hours, whenever driving became too much for the New Yorker.

"Can't sleep," he mumbled, turning his head to look out the window again.

"Well, turn it off," came the simple reply, and Caleb knew that Ben was referring to his brain. More than once the taller man had pointed out that Caleb over-thought everything, or in his words, 'obsessed more than a woman'.

"Good idea," Caleb muttered dryly, closing his eyes again. He knew Ben cared, but that the other man also wasn't about to ask him to talk. It was up to Caleb how much he wanted to share, if anything at all. "You know, I've never been on my own."

"Well, some people have all the luck," Ben replied flatly. Ben knew all about being alone, and it didn't surprise Caleb one bit that he thought he was lucky. And maybe knowing what Ben had lived through was part of the reason that Caleb had that underlying fear of being completely alone- Hell, he probably never would have left the agency if Cheryl hadn't gone with him.

But still- Caleb had had Jackson since his first second of life up until he was twenty three, and the two men were never apart for more than a few weeks. And when he left Jackson behind, he had had his wife. Now she was dead, and what did Caleb do? Go right back to the old world. Did he actually want it, or was he convincing himself as an excuse to continue having some kind of constant in his life?

"Some people can handle it, and some can't," Ben continued. "There's nothing wrong with needing someone- and you definitely do." Caleb just nodded. He knew he was unstable at heart. He needed support, needed some kind of guidance. That wasn't the problem. The problem was that he was left feeling like he was using those most important to him, only to discard them when they weren't necessary.

"It's up to the rest of us to decide whether or not to put up with it, don't you think?" Ben asked, and Caleb lit a cigarette, cracking the window open. "I mean, fuck- I need people to need me, or I'm a total mess. I didn't go to NYU for _myself_, remember?"

Caleb nodded. He remembered the story all too well. Ben had ended up in the foster system in the first place so he could remain in high school, so he could go to college and get a job that could support his daughter and Nikita. In those months between his running away and ending up in foster care, Ben had pretty much been a homeless fuck-up, turning to crime to get by while fading on and off of a myriad of different drugs to cope.

"Jack's kind of the same, don't you think? He took care of all of us. I'm no therapist, but it's probably a nice distraction for him...he doesn't need to think about himself if he's thinking about other people. And you saw what's happened to him since we all drifted apart." Caleb nodded again, taking a deep drag. He had heard it in their few phone conversations, seen it in Minnesota- the shell of the brother he knew.

"So that's how I am, that's how he is, and you're the opposite." Ben chuckled. "You're like...a car with shitty alignment. As long as someone's holding onto the wheel, it doesn't matter, right? You need a driver to keep from flying into some bridge abutment."

Caleb used his half-smoked cigarette to light a second, passing it over to his friend. Just in that handful of minutes, he was sure two tons had been lifted from the weight on his conscience. What Ben said made perfect sense, and it was reminding him just how lucky he was to have so many drivers in his life. "I shouldn't have ignored your calls, Lex," he replied softly, coming as close to an actual apology as he could. "And when Jackson told me you and Jamie split...I should have called."

"Maybe," Ben said honestly, taking a drag. "But I get it, I guess. You needed that distance at the time."

Caleb nodded. He had needed it, but he still felt rather shitty about it. Ben had been his best friend, and he just plain should have been there for him. "What happened?" he finally asked, even though he felt the question was somewhat out of line, especially followed with the next display of insensitivity. "I mean, are you going to be okay working with her?" He didn't mean it like that, though. He was honestly worried about his friend, running forward in this plan with two exes at his side and a hole in his leg.

Ben chuckled. "She got pregnant," he replied simply. "But don't worry- we're fine now. We're friends. Just like me and Nik," he finished, motioning to the sleeping woman in the backseat.

Caleb frowned, remember vividly Ben's prior confession about hitting Jamie. It wasn't difficult to put two and two together. _That_ was why Ben had been sent to Miami. It had nothing to do with Jackson not wanting to work with him. The pieces were clicking rapidly into place. Jackson was being promoted to manager, and had needed a second. Ben was a better choice, but with the now obvious pain and anger between him and Jamie, the two couldn't work together.

So Jackson had sent Ben to Miami hoping he would get promoted over Robert. It obviously wasn't because of the men's disdain for each other...if they ever really existed. It was so difficult to tell sometimes, but Caleb also knew that almost anyone else would have been on Jackson's shit list faster than the confession could leave his lips if he had gone behind the man's back like Ben had. But instead of getting promoted, Ben had gotten stuck as a second on a dead-end team, which could have also lent to Jackson's quick forgiveness. Maybe there were hints of atonement for screwing Ben over in the first place.

"Don't look at me like that," Ben snapped good naturedly, taking another drag. "Miami wasn't that bad, actually. I actually got to drive a car, there's sunny beaches, and all those fiery Latinas." The taller man grinned, and Caleb could see the wink behind his aviators. "And the Latinos aren't bad, either."

Caleb chuckled, falling silent for a moment as he inhaled deeply. He was jealous of Ben sometimes, to be honest. No one could accuse the man of being a blind optimist, but he always seemed to find a way to make things work, and work well without obsessing over every angle. He had always been the man who rolled with the punches, and threw a few of his own along the way, all the while managing to be his same self. It was a skill Caleb wished he possessed.

"And now we're all going back to New York," Caleb noted, stating the obvious. "Well, some of us," he added, remembering that two of their former teammates were dead. "How do you think Lisa's going to fit in?"

Ben chuckled. "Don't you _ever_ tell her I said so, but she's probably the best thing that could have happened to him," he replied, and continued quickly when Caleb scoffed at the sentimentality. "Oh come on- you have to admit, they fill in the gaps. She totally puts him in his place, but she also needs taking care of sometimes. She just needs to work out a few kinks, but we'll straighten her out. Woman's a killer."

Caleb nodded yet again, tossing the cigarette out the window. It was so strange to him how quickly the brothers' lives had intersected, their worlds reversing. Caleb had watched what began as a stable marriage crumble, the comforts he had built fall apart, and now he was trying to pick up the pieces and start over again while Jackson was the one who seemed to be the one who had actually found someone that completed him, the one whose life seemed to be finally coming together.

Yes, his brother had so many cracks of his own, but Caleb knew he would find a way to repair them. If there was one thing Jackson was good at, it was that he always eventually found a way to prevail, even if it meant burying his pain deep inside and refusing to acknowledge it. Maybe Ben was right. Using that same analogy, Jackson's alignment wasn't perfect, and he could get sidetracked, but unlike Caleb, he only needed a nudge from somewhere in his environment to keep him on the road. He could drive his own car...he just needed a copilot. And it comforted Caleb to know that maybe he had finally found one.

* * *

Jackson silently watched as Jeff removed the ice packs from Lisa's back. It was one of the final orders from Caleb, intended to lessen her massive bruising. And massive it was- Jackson couldn't keep his eyes from the dark purple and blue marbling that spread across her pale skin. He had seen too much already, and was still in some balanced state of refusing to really acknowledge it.

He had already made it clear that he did not want to know what had happened while he had been passed out. Being within arm's reach of Lisa as Caleb inspected the open wound for any significant leaks before finally closing it had been more than enough for him. He knew that she had almost died- the details were irrelevant, really.

And she still hadn't woken up, which was driving Jackson up a wall. He had drifted in and out of consciousness himself as the day turned to night and then to morning, but he had been told that she had slept through the entirety of those hours. Thomas had insisted during his quick inspection earlier that it had less to do with her medication and more to do with the fact that they hadn't been able to fully replenish her blood supply, which would make her tired until her body did the work itself.

Jackson had always been one of those "lucky people", the kind who just seemed to heal quicker, or at least deal with it more easily. Maybe it was defiance- who knew? But that just meant he was around to watch and wait for Lisa to finally open her eyes again.

Truth be told, with the passing of time, Jackson wasn't _that_ concerned with the others. Ben and Nikita weren't going into the house until they had received word from Caleb, so they weren't at risk. If either of them encountered Marie, they were likely going to catch her off-guard, so that wasn't a problem. Caleb and Jamie _were_ at risk, but only if Marie could get the upper hand. The woman had a definite talent for strategy- usually- but it had been years since she had personally taken anyone's life, so the two were at an advantage there. Jackson just didn't believe Marie would have brought in some kind of backup on the off chance that her brother didn't do his job- erring on the side of caution wasn't her style.

While it was somewhat pleasant to not be concerned with the life of his friends and brother, it left Jackson with nothing to do but sleep, stress out over his mother, and watch Lisa. Jeff had managed to drag a TV into the room, so at least he could watch the news sometimes, but that usually irritated him more than anything else. Not that he was surprised to see all the sympathy and tributes for Keefe, but he didn't particularly want to see it.

And Mrs. Reisert. Jesus, she was _good_. Jackson still felt the same he had before- she was borderline obnoxious and definitely gaudy- but he had to give her props for her dedication and her ability to be a massive pain in the ass for the government who had truthfully thrown her daughter under the bus. And she hadn't completely jumped on the supposedly psycho bandwagon and declared Lisa to be alive- life was ironic, sometimes- and instead kept demanding some kind of explanation for the recent events, which made her smart. Through her behavior, she had managed to shift public opinion yet again. He understood perfectly now how much of a nightmare it was becoming for the feds, and there was a part of him that wanted to gloat over it. It was what they deserved for allowing Keefe to drag Lisa's name through the dirt like that.

Demanding to know how the government could insist Lisa was guilty in light of the assassination was actually a good thought. If Lisa had been involved with the "terrorists", then she would have run off with them and been safe, since the cell was obviously still around. The only reason she would have ended her own life was if she wasn't involved and had no kind of protection. It was a valid assumption, and as long as Mrs. Reisert managed to broadcast herself all over the television, the entire "Lisa Reisert was a sweet little sleeper agent" movement was in trouble as long as they couldn't come up with actual evidence. Jackson himself could come up with a hundred ways to refute Gloria's theories, but again, without evidence, there would always be that question.

Even though it was the reason Jackson was coming face to face with his mother, but he still had to appreciate Mrs. Reisert's efforts to clear her daughter's name. He only wished he could have had parents who cared that much about him.

Jackson brought a hand to his own chest and poked at that weird indent, distracting himself from _that_ piece of self-pity. He was on enough painkillers that he didn't feel the pressure he applied, and being able to feel his own lung behind his skin had become a morbid fascination. Thomas had explained that at any point, Jackson could undergo an operation to have a titanium "rib" inserted into his chest, but it wasn't a high priority by any means. He was fine for the time being.

"So fucked up," Jeff muttered for the hundredth time, pulling a sheet over Jackson's chest before setting ice packs on his bruises. Jackson just smiled faintly, scratching his jaw. His body was starting to fall apart at age 28. And his lung was swiss cheese.

"Do you think it's hard to learn Russian?" he asked absently, nodding his head to the side to silently ask Jeff for a drink. He was getting used to the whole invalid routine, but he didn't hate it any less. _And fucking Chechen_... He sighed softly. _Goddamn nightmare._

There had to be better teams to handle the whole...come to think of it, he didn't even know what they were called, but that didn't matter. Jackson's team had _one_ native Russian speaker, and even that depended on whether or not Ben officially joined him. But that just meant they would have to find some insiders- they had done it before. Once everything was resolved here, Jackson would have to take some time and attack the entire situation. There wasn't much point in thinking about it until his mind was clear.

"Probably."

Jackson and Jeff both turned to the source of the soft voice, and Jackson stopped breathing momentarily when he finally met Lisa's green eyes, hazy with exhaustion. He barely noticed Jeff leave the room as he searched for something to say other than 'hi'.

"How long have I...?" Lisa asked slowly, blinking once as she trailed off, and Jackson smiled weakly. She looked so out of it. 'The lights were on', as it were. But half out of her mind or not, he felt such a rush seeing her eyes open, her lips moving. He wouldn't even mind a barrage of questions- she was _alive_.

"About a day," he replied softly, carefully leaning in closer. "How are you feeling?"

Lisa inhaled deeply and furrowed her eyebrows, as though trying to figure out that exact question. "Are we dead?" she half-joked, trying to move closer to him. Her frowned deepened as she glanced down at her own bare shoulder. "I don't have a shirt on."

Jackson chuckled, aching to pull the smaller woman close. He felt such a disconnect, unable to make that contact with her. "Let's pretend that I made a crass comment," he replied, yawning. His brain was still a little too fucked up to actually _make_ one.

Lisa nodded, smiling again. "Then let's pretend I acted offended but secretly liked it," she mumbled and laughed weakly before frowning, trying in vain to lift her head and look at the television. Jackson followed her attempted gaze and saw that the news was replaying her mother's latest interview.

"She's been going all-out," he explained. "She won't lay off the feds defending you." He shot Lisa a wry grin. "I can see where you get your insistency from."

Lisa scoffed, yawning. "That's a nice way of calling us a pain in the ass," she murmured, trying to see the television again.

"I wasn't going to do it the rude way," Jackson replied, looking Lisa over. He couldn't roll her on her back- even if she didn't feel it now, she would later. He might be able to help her sit up, but was she strong enough for that? She could barely lift her head.

"Can you turn it off?" Lisa asked distractedly, frowning again. Jackson matched her expression, caught off-guard by the question. "...makes me sad."

Jackson nodded and reached for the remote, turning off the television. He thought he understood what she was getting at. She wasn't going to see her mother again, so hearing her in the speakers must feel like some kind of horrible tease. He didn't really want to bring it up though- he wasn't exactly on his game, and even if he were, he would probably still screw it up with insensitivity. Plus, if she felt anything similar to what he had when he had first woken up, Lisa likely wasn't in a place to talk about it anyway.

"What happens now?" she asked meekly, catching Jackson's attention again.

"Caleb, Ben, and Nikita are on their way to Dallas," he explained, trying to skim. He didn't have the energy to lay it all out for her. "Spencer is coming in a few hours to discuss things." _Discuss you_, is what he should have said. But if he did that, Lisa would want an explanation. It wasn't as though he was hiding anything from her- she'd find out during the meeting, so Jackson was just saving himself from having to repeat anything.

"And I'm supposed to be gone, right?" she asked, surprising him with her mostly business-like demeanor. "Not my business, and..." She trailed off again, mumbling something about being a distraction. Jackson didn't understand all the words, but of course he got the point- she was thinking about their previous conversation back in his hotel room.

He shook his head. He should probably prefer that she wasn't there, but...it gave him a strange sense of comfort having her by his side. And, more realistically, she was attached to that IV- he couldn't very well make her leave. Not to mention that this issue involved her. Yes, she was second only to Caleb on the list of people Jackson did _not_ want meeting Spencer, but if he didn't tell her, maybe it would be alright.

But at the same time, Jackson knew on some level that it wasn't right. He felt almost obligated to tell her- it _was_ quite a big deal, really. But he couldn't tell her yet. He didn't know how it was going to go, or how he was going to feel after. Even if Lisa didn't ask questions, he knew he would feel that same obligation to talk about it. If he didn't want to, it could get tense, and neither of them were really in a place for that.

"It's fine," he assured her, leaning his head back as he yawned again. "You can stay." Lisa nodded again, slowly lifting her forearm to rest her hand on Jackson's chest, careful to avoid his bandages and the ice packs.

Jackson tilted his head somewhat to look her straight on, his eyebrows furrowed. Did she _know_? Common sense told him there was no fucking way, but something in the way she closed her eyes, leaning forward to press her forehead to his shoulder...he felt as though she saw right through him. Or at least saw how much of a goddamned mess he was at the moment- how much of a mess they both were.

"Then I'll stay."

Jackson gave a final nod as he closed his own eyes, bringing up his hand to curl his fingers around Lisa's. The two lay in silence, a silence that had nothing to do with the morphine, nothing to do with their hazy minds and exhaustion. It was a silence of support, filled with conversations that couldn't be spoken out loud with words that didn't exist.


	40. Future Reflections

**Thanks as always to my reviewers (I need to come up with more creative ways to say that). I know I said it wouldn't be two months between updates, but I fell in a funk again, and the words just haven't been coming as easily as they did back when I was updating every few weeks. Sorry. On the bright side, there's only two chapters left (I think), so I might be done by Valentine's Day. :P**

**A few words about this chapter: it's another slower one, building up to the final confrontation with Marie and Jackson's meeting with Spencer, so don't expect fireworks just yet. It also hints at another layer to the relationship between Ben and Caleb. It's probably been pretty obvious I've been dancing around it, so I decided to throw it out there and see what happened. :)**

**Eva: **As I said in our emails, I do have plans for a sequel. I was debating not bothering with it because the review count has been dropping and people seem to be losing interest, but then I figured as long as I have some people willing to wait while I update, I might as well keep writing what's in my head. I'll probably post a "trailer" of sorts at the end of this story.

**Guest: **I'm trying! :P

**BW4eva- **Oh, I intend on ending this story with quite the roller-coaster finale. I can't pretend that Lisa isn't leaving behind some heartbroken family, and she's not going to be able to keep avoiding it. Spencer's going to give her quite the offer, and we'll have to see how it all plays out.

**The dreaded "F" word:**

* * *

**Chapter 39: Future Reflections**

Jackson barely registered the bedroom door opening, but he didn't miss the soft humming of one of the Beatles songs- he was still too tired to figure out the name, though. He turned his head toward the door, watching Lisa quietly walk in. He shot her a tired smile, noticing her damp hair.

"Feel better?" As Lisa had slowly pulled herself from her initial fog of blood loss-induced exhaustion, she had started to show her little idiosyncrasies again, much to Jackson's delight. It hadn't taken her long to remember that she hated being _slightly_ dirty, which meant that being coated in others' and her own blood was something she was not about to stand.

Unfortunately, she was still groggy, not to mention that she needed someone to wrap her wound. Jackson wasn't much help, so she had had to wait until Thomas came home. He hated that he was so useless, but it all amounted to the same end- Lisa was happier, even if only minutely. That was enough for him in that moment.

Lisa nodded, sitting down next to Jackson, being careful not to jostle him. She did look lighter, but Jackson couldn't miss the darkness in her eyes as her gaze shifted to Thomas, who had followed her in. He frowned, his guard immediately increased as he waited for some explanation.

He didn't have to wait long, his frown deepening when Lisa pulled away from Thomas as the doctor attempted to re-insert her IV. "It makes me tired," she explained meekly, moving closer to Jackson.

"I told you, it's not just the drugs," Thomas replied, and Jackson could tell by the tone of his voice that it wasn't the first time he was repeating himself, despite how patient he tried to sound. "You've lost too much blood, and you're going to be tired until it replenishes. And the saline is a necessary precaution in case you-"

"I don't want it," Lisa insisted, clenching her jaw. "It makes me _more_ tired." She looked down at Jackson with a wrenching plea in her eyes, and the manager let out a weak sigh, glancing back up at Thomas. He could tell by the look on the doctor's face that he was going to hook her up with or without her permission, and while Jackson was on his side, he could tell that there was a much bigger issue behind Lisa's seemingly baseless, ignorant protest.

"Give us a minute," he said softly, his voice much less commanding than it would normally be. He wasn't Thomas' boss, after all, and he knew that the doctor had every right to insist on Lisa's IV. After the surgeon shot him a look that got his irritated reluctance across clearly, Jackson looked up at Lisa again, studying her. It was impossible to miss those clouds in her green eyes.

"Nightmares?" he asked softly, venturing a guess as to why she had such an opposition to sleeping. It seemed only natural, after everything she had been through. He just needed to calm her down.

Lisa shook her head, fiddling with the zipper on Caleb's hoodie. "I just don't want it," she told him, her face flushing more than it already was. Jackson's frown grew impossibly deeper. She wasn't talking to him. He knew that he shouldn't be surprised, but how could he help her if she wouldn't tell him what was wrong? Once again, life was ironic.

"Well, Leese," he began, wishing he could sit up and be level with her. He was in the same position that he found himself days ago in the dressing room. He wasn't good at sympathy, or shows of affection, and knowing that her problems jeopardized her health was making it even more difficult. If she didn't trust him enough to speak to him, he had no choice except to lay it down with honesty. "You need the IV. You don't have a say in it."

It was true- Lisa would fall asleep soon, and Thomas could hook up the IV then. But Jackson would rather not go that route. If Lisa was this upset about it, she would likely feel betrayed by Jackson if he allowed Thomas to go through with it. And by the hurt that flashed in her eyes, he knew immediately that he had been correct. "But I still want to know-"

"Fine," Lisa snapped, slowly sinking down and onto her back. She glared straight up at the ceiling, and Jackson knew that he had misstepped yet again. He was such an asshole. "Call him back in here, then."

A few days ago, Jackson might have rolled his eyes at her childish stubbornness, but he knew differently now. Lisa wasn't pouting- she was trying to show him that she trusted his judgement enough to bury her own feelings, which, despite everything he had said to her in the beginning, he didn't want. He wanted her to trust him, but not like this. He hated that she couldn't seem to find the balance between trust and obedience. He didn't need another employee.

He let out an internal sigh of frustration, still not able to do so physically without causing more pain in his chest. "Why don't you want the drugs?" he asked, clenching his jaw. He wasn't frustrated with _her_. He was frustrated with his own issues, both physical and mental.

Words were important to Jackson. He read even more often than Caleb, which was no easy feat. The two each had poems, stories, and plays that they could recite practically verbatim, but when it came to expressing himself, neither twin excelled, each for their own reasons. Jackson's problem was that he just didn't remember how to fully embrace what he felt, and so he had difficulty putting those emotions into words.

It was that cross from the abstract that he didn't have a complete grasp of to the concrete that left him tongue tied. He could recite, he could play any part, but playing himself? It rarely flowed nearly as flawlessly.

All he wanted to do was gather Lisa in his arms, try to offer some kind of comfort without the words getting in the way. But no matter how stubborn Jackson could be, he was just physically incapable of acting on his desires. So all he could do was take a chance- he had to rely on his words and hope Lisa would make sense of it.

His logic told him he was overreacting, but something in his heart told him that this was important. Lisa was doing a remarkable job hiding everything except her irritation, but Jackson could see the subtle glistening in her eyes, and he knew that it wasn't exhaustion. Something was deeply upsetting her.

"Why do you always want me to talk to you?" he began again, letting his fingers graze her upturned palm. "It doesn't change anything, does it? Reality is still reality, right?" He wasn't really asking the questions. He already knew Lisa's response- he was counting on it. She would probably tell him that talking about problems can help, either because a person can gain insight, or even just having someone else to share the burden. But hopefully, this time Lisa would be reminding herself.

Lisa's eyebrows furrowed, and she swallowed hard, still avoiding eye contact. "It's weak and stupid," she insisted, her voice wavering slightly. Jackson closed his eyes tightly, squeezing the bridge of his nose. _Weak_.

"Not if it's coming from you," he murmured. It was the truth- Lisa was many things, but she was neither weak nor stupid. They disagreed on many things, yes, but the worst place her opinions came from was ignorance, not stupidity. And weak? "You haven't been weak since the first hour after we met, Leese," he insisted, cringing at how asinine the words sounded as he slipped his hand into hers.

It was too honestly sentimental and downright unlike him- she would never buy it.

"That's what happened before," Lisa explained softly, her grip tightening, and Jackson saw her cheeks flush. "I just fell asleep. And I knew I wouldn't wake up again, but I didn't care. I gave up on you," she finished, her voice heavy, "and I'm so sorry."

"I know what you're going to say," she continued rapidly, turning her head to watch Jackson intently. Jackson was glad for that, because he had no idea himself. What could he possibly say to that? The woman felt guilty for almost _dying_? She thought she had failed him? So he waited, fully willing to let Lisa put the words in his mouth for now.

"I know you don't blame me for it, or anything like that," she explained. "But it's getting to me- I knew it was happening, and I just…" She trailed off, shaking her head.

"Don't do this to yourself," Jackson pleaded, finding his words before she could come up with more. "You were in pain. You were scared, overwhelmed…" He sighed softly, knowing it was pointless. All she was going to hear was 'weak'.

"Back in the earlier years, I...got my hand broken on a job," he admitted, hoping she wouldn't pry into the story- he didn't have the strength to speak at that great of length, and quite honestly, he wouldn't want to even if he could. It was easily one of the more humiliating moments of his life. But Lisa said nothing, and if Jackson had a suspicion by looking in her unchanged face that she already knew about it, which meant that Caleb, Ben, or both had developed yet another case of loose lips. But he continued, knowing that there was plenty to the story that those two didn't know.

"We couldn't go to a hospital, obviously, and this was before we had access to physicians on the inside, so there wasn't much we could do to treat it except a cheapjack brace-" He flushed slightly, taking a brief second to build up the courage to finally admit what he had done to his friends and brother. "-and heroin."

Lisa obviously hadn't known that aspect. He could see the surprise and disappointment, as well as the hint of admiration in her eyes that came from an upbringing in an upper middle class suburb. She thought he was reckless and a bit of a badass. "I know it was stupid, and dangerous," he added, saving her the trouble. Heroin was the most addictive drug, and on top of that, was practically born to soothe Jackson's brand of misery.

"And selfish- I know Ben had some experience with it. Even if he didn't tell us, I saw it in his face, but I still had him prep it and inject me. Jaime almost killed herself in her addiction and her battle to quit, but I still did it right in front of her. Caleb was terrified that I was going to become addicted, but I guilted him into keeping his mouth shut, and he even shot me with it a few times."

"Jackson-" Lisa began, but he shook his head, cutting her off before he even had time to read her heavy tone.

"It wasn't because my hand hurt," he continued, closing his eyes tightly at the pain speaking so quickly and freely was causing. "The first few times it was, but after that, it was because it was the first time I could remember that I didn't feel pain, and I didn't _care_, not even about how much it hurt my team."

"Obviously it's not death, and I'm not saying I know how you feel," he clarified, finally turning his head to look at the woman again. "But every time I came down from that high, the pain and guilt that I had erased for the moment came back stronger, and I hated myself. But they never did. They understood." He chuckled softly at just how much he had rambled, when he probably could have summed it up much more quickly if he were thinking clearly. "The point is, I forgive you," he mumbled, getting his head back on straight and finally addressing her apology. "You're just going to have to forgive yourself."

Lisa clenched her jaw, not caring about the pain as she rolled onto her stomach, leaning over Jackson and dropping a firm kiss onto his mouth, their first since the blur of emotion and blood in that car. She knew Jackson must have hated every word of what he said- it was a trifecta of his limitations- admitting his flaws, speaking at length, and reliving past pain. She also knew that if asked a million times, he would prefer not to tell that story every single time. He was doing it for her, in a way that cut straight through her doubts more than a simple 'you didn't do anything wrong'. He was admitting that she was right, that she had been weak in that moment, but that it was okay anyway.

"We'll get through this," she whispered against his lips, but she wasn't sure if she was reassuring him or asking him for his. Maybe it was a mix of both. She realized that it probably seemed like a tangent, but to her, it really wasn't. How was it possible that merely a confession of his own released so much pressure from hers? That just being in his arms and knowing that he somehow understood what she was feeling gave her such relief?

But the throbbing in her shoulder and down her arm was becoming overwhelming, trumping the warm rush that came with finally being so close to him again, and Lisa had to pull away. Her guilt itself was still there, for giving up, for her mother, and for her countless list of crimes, both minor and grievous, but what made it seem more bearable than before was that Jackson was right. It was something that she had to work past, but not on her own. That was what really important- he knew her pain, and the fact that he was completely willing to draw it into his own chest made it so much easier to carry.

Lisa rolled onto her back again, but quickly found Jackson's arm snaking carefully under her and slowly pulling her closer to him. She shifted her weight onto her good shoulder, letting Jackson pull her half onto his chest. She glanced down at his bandages, careful to keep a generous amount of space between them and her body before letting her head rest back on Jackson's shoulder, pressing to his cheek and interlacing her fingers with the hand that now rested on her stomach.

"Thomas can hook me back up now," she whispered, yawning widely already. Jackson smiled weakly, tilting his head down to drop a kiss on her temple. The doctor would be back in soon, and Jackson decided that his own previous discomfort was worth it if it meant that Lisa would willingly face what she hated instead of with a reluctant obedience that left a bad taste in her mouth.

Lisa was right yet again. Jackson was sure he could see an end to what had seemed so impossible in days past. Even his mother. He didn't know when the woman was going to show up, but when she did, he would deal with it. Marie would be dead within the next 24 hours, and they would still have to sort through the fallout, but even that seemed so much easier than it had before.

Jackson closed his eyes, barely even noticing Thomas re-enter the room. He was in the past again, a night that seemed like a lifetime ago, years before the agency. Ben was 22, the twins were about a month shy of 21, and Jackson was sitting inside the open window, eavesdropping on a conversation between Caleb and Ben on the fire escape of the apartment they had rented for their second half of college. It had only been their home for a month, and it was already threatening to fall apart.

_"What are you doing?" Caleb asked, but it was a stupid question. Jackson had been on his way to the kitchen for a drink when he noticed the men sitting outside at four in the morning. He hadn't heard Ben come back after storming out a few hours ago, but was definitely relieved to see him._

_Jackson had sat near the window only a minute prior, finding his brother and the lanky New Yorker sitting with a bag of various pills in a baggie, and felt a crush of disappointment. Jackson couldn't identify them by sight, and probably wouldn't know exactly what they were if Ben gave him the names, but he still understood what he was seeing. Ben was about to drown his misery in a haze of pills, like he used to before the twins knew him._

_Not that anyone with an ounce of sympathy would entirely blame him. He had spent two years of his life busting his ass at NYU to get his degree, his only motivation being the daughter who was turning six next week, the daughter that Ben still had yet to hold or say a word to. The drive to find a respectable job and take care of little Sasha and her mother was the sole reason Ben was in college in the first place, and the reason he had spent almost three years before NYU in a foster system he despised._

_And earlier that evening, he had found out that Nikita was getting married and now his daughter was infinitely further from him._

It hadn't been her idea, and wasn't what she wanted, but since her parents had pulled her from high school at fifteen when she became pregnant, it was either stay with them and wait for an uncertain future with Ben or accept this proposal, get out of that goddamn house, and secure a future for their daughter. Jackson knew Ben understood it now, but at the time, he had been entrenched in pain, frustration, and betrayal.

_"I dropped a grand," Ben replied, taking a drag of his cigarette and resting his forehead against the railing. "After...you know." Caleb nodded, taking a drag as Ben passed the cigarette, and Jackson noticed a curious blush on his brother's cheek that he couldn't decipher, before his gaze focused on that bag. He wanted to scream at the man not to get involved in this shit again, but also was well aware that if Ben was determined, Jackson's words weren't going to make a bit of difference. Caleb had already tried, and from the screaming and crashes Jackson had heard through the closed bedroom door before Ben came rushing out, he obviously hadn't been able to comfort him. Jackson knew that those two were much closer than he and Ben would ever be, so what possible help could he be?_

_And who the hell was Jackson to stop him, anyway? He knew he couldn't understand what the older man was going through. If this was what he needed for comfort...maybe that was just how it had to be. But still, as he silently watched the scene through the open window, he searched himself, looking for some kind of words that would help Ben see logically._

_"It was well spent," the man continued, opening the bag and holding it over the edge of the fire escape. Gripping the bag by its bottom, Ben turned his wrist, letting the pills fall to the ground below them with a hundred tiny pings. "Because I know I don't need them now. I'm not going to drop out," he continued, answering the unasked question as he turned to meet Caleb's gaze. "I just have a new future now, that's all." He chuckled, leaning toward Caleb and nudging him with his shoulder. "But not unless you help with my part of the bills this month. And next month, probably."_

_Jackson frowned. Ben sounded so sure of himself when seven hours ago, he had been a screaming mess, insisting that there was no fucking point to what he had been doing now and that despite the twins' protests, his daughter was his future. What could possibly have changed? He seriously doubted that Ben just lost his dedication to the little girl in those seven hours, or that he had magically found a new direction for his life. His problem had most definitely not been solved._

_"Thanks," Ben finished, tossing the cigarette through the railing bars and turning to face Jackson, his message apparently meant for the other brother as well._

Jackson smiled faintly, tightening his grip on Lisa's fingers as he opened his eyes again to see Thomas inserting the IV back into her vein. He had been so confused at the time, wondering how Ben could possibly pull that much of a one-eighty, from misery to optimism when a solution seemed impossibly out of reach. And he had had absolutely no idea what Ben's gratitude was for.

He had figured it out, of course- he wasn't _that_ much of an emotional cripple. Ben was thanking the twins for simply being there, for being his friends, confidants, whatever title they chose. He was thanking them for making him see that he didn't need to know his path as long as he knew they would support him while he discovered it.

Jackson had gotten it, but hadn't really understood. He had never fully understood what Ben meant when the man had yammered on over the years about having each others' backs, because Jackson had never really had that luxury. He had started out taking care of Caleb in their adolescence, and it progressed into being a team's lead and then manager- when he failed, others paid. It had never been enough to have others around, because the more people around him, the more responsible he had to be. It wasn't the right word, but in a way, those close to him were burdens more than safety nets.

Not anymore, though. He _did_ understand now. He did still feel that inclination to protect, especially Lisa since she was just so...new, but the woman had shown time and time again that she wasn't so pure, in the best ways possible. She had revealed her vulnerabilities and her raw honesty, and had been knocked off that pedestal and into a more "real" territory. She wasn't as sanctimonious or as good as he had previously thought- she was just less tainted than the rest. But she could hold her own, and as Jackson himself had said to Ben, he just had to let her.

And yes, Lisa was right. The problems, no matter how impossible they seemed, would be solved. The way out would present itself when it was appropriate, but in the meantime, they would search together. They _would_ get through it, and _they_ sounded so much better, so much easier to handle, than him alone.

Jackson lowered his face again, brushing his nose against Lisa's cheek as the woman faded back into unconsciousness. "_Thanks_," he whispered softly, not caring whether she was awake enough to respond- he knew she heard him, and that was all that mattered.

* * *

"Will it be enough?" Ben asked, pocketing his cell phone. He had called Jackson's assistant and delivered her the news of just how much they'd be shelling out for Nikita. The woman definitely didn't sound happy about it, but Ben decided that he didn't feel like explaining that it was just a loan- he would pay Jackson back when he could access his bank accounts again.

He adjusted his aviators with a finger as he stared out at the busy street outside the Jimmy Johns, his eyes tracing the path Caleb had taken as he had driven off to meet Jamie and take care of Matthieu. He was a little jealous of Jamie, really- he so wanted to see how Caleb was going to kill the Frenchman at a fucking _airport_ without attracting attention. Yes, he could take the boring way out and simply hold the man hostage until they got closer to Oklahoma, but that wasn't Caleb's style- he was more creative.

"I don't need you to buy our way," Nikita insisted, her voice just as soft. The two were speaking in English, which was rare for them, but Ben figured that speaking Russian in the middle of the sidewalk in downtown Dallas wasn't the most inconspicuous thing they could do. "But it's a big help."

"I technically owe you," Ben replied flatly, both sarcastically speaking the truth and taking a slight dig at the woman. "I'm fourteen years behind in child support, right?" He smiled grimly when she shook her head. Ben didn't owe a penny of child support because his name was nowhere near Sasha's birth certificate. Having a kid would have prevented him from entering the foster system, and not being able to do so would have meant absolutely no future- it wasn't exactly easy for a runaway teen to find a decent job without giving away his real personal info. It sucked, but it had been their only option.

Ben had known for a few months now that Nikita was trying to leave Ilia, her husband, but until now, he hadn't been allowed to give her any financial support. The woman hadn't wanted a handout, but being paid to help them was fine with her.

"What's your plan?" he asked, nudging the crutches leaning against the bench next to him with his foot. He wanted to see how far he could push them before gravity took over and brought them falling to the ground. Like most things, sometimes.

"I got into NYIT, and I found an apartment near it," she explained, and Ben shrugged. She already had the computer skills to get a good job, but she needed the degree to back it up if she wanted to be considered for any of them. He was happy that she was getting everything in order, but that hadn't really been what he was asking.

"And Sasha?" he clarified, referring to their last conversation before this Keefe business, when Nikita had told him she wanted to tell their daughter the truth. He knew the girl was already well aware that Ilia wasn't her father, but the rest of the story was a mystery to her.

"You can finally be in her life," Nikita replied with a soft smile, and Ben easily crushed the bittersweet rush that came with those words, the words that would have made him drop anything and everything a few years ago. He traced the half-sleeve tattoo peeking from his t-shirt with his thumb, shrugging again.

"If you want to tell her, it's your choice," he said, repeating his words from their last conversation. It wasn't worth getting into that he wasn't leaving his job yet again, because Nikita insisted that Sasha was already well-versed in the more underground activities and didn't need that kind of protecting. "But I can't be there yet. Cal needs me now, and so does Jack."

He hoped it would be enough, because he knew he couldn't find the words to make Nikita understand why he was putting the Rippners over his own child for the time being. But the confusion and outright disappointment in her eyes let him know that he had to make an attempt. "I owe them, Nik. It's that simple."

Nikita scoffed, just as Ben knew she would. "Your life?" she asked. "To the one who walked out on you and didn't look back, or the one who exiled you to Florida?"

Ben frowned at the biting accuracy in her words. "They had their reasons," he insisted, his tone defensive. He did owe them. He owed Jackson his life, and owed Caleb everything. If Caleb's presence had helped him become more confident, secure, and driven back in college and to their mid-twenties, then his leaving had reminded Ben that nothing was constant, and he needed to secure those qualities for himself. Having support was wonderful, of course, but Caleb had also unwittingly taught him how to live without it. Maybe there were hints of bitterness lingering, but that was between him and the younger twin, and he wasn't going to sit and listen to Nikita criticize a situation that she had only secondhand knowledge of. The brothers had looked out for him in their respective, sometimes twisted ways, and everything else was mostly forgiven. "I don't expect you to understand, but I'm with them. And that's it- end of story."

Wisely, Nikita understood that Ben's position was inflexible, and she just smiled faintly. "Just be careful," she murmured, staring out at the traffic, and Ben nodded.

"First time for everything," he joked with a grin, content to play the carefree clown until the situation required sensibility again. He read so many connotations in those words. He knew she wasn't talking about his physical safety- she was referring to the blurry lines of his unorthodox relationship with Caleb, warning him that he was approaching the 'danger zone' yet again and could end up just as emotionally torn up as he had with every other relationship. But unlike the Rippners, Ben wasn't a worrier by nature, even if he was leaps and bounds more careful than most gave him credit for.

He knew what he was doing- he was well aware that there was some unspoken bond between the two men, but he was content to store that idea in the recesses of his mind. He refused to let it interfere with their friendship as it stood. If things changed, he might start thinking about it, but for now, let it remained undefined. He was perfectly content with what they had, and it was neither the time nor the place to get bogged down with thoughts of what could be.

Anxious for things to get rolling, he pulled out his phone to send Jackson an update as he resumed imagining exactly what fate Matthieu would meet at the hands of the Black Widower.

* * *

Jackson turned toward the nightstand, staring at his ringing phone. _Trudi_. He closed his eyes, sighing in annoyance at the noise that was disturbing his current state of staring half-comatose at the wall. The only call he wanted to receive was from the group heading to Oklahoma, giving him some kind of update that he had been waiting hours for.

But he knew the woman wasn't calling for a chat, so he reluctantly reached for the phone, holding it to his ear. "Yeah?" he grumbled, using his other hand to massage his stiff neck. With Spencer about to drop in at any point, Thomas had begun weaning Jackson off the morphine. He had gotten a less-potent Vicodin to help with the pain, but it wasn't doing the trick nearly as well.

"We need to talk," Trudi replied, ignoring Jackson's unpleasant tone as usual. But she also didn't sound her usual chipper self, so he simply waited for the other shoe to drop, despite the fact that he was very much not in the mood. "Alex just called...forty grand? Really?"

"I don't know," Jackson replied, his apathy coming out as sarcasm. "Did he stutter?" The amount seemed fairly steep, but he vaguely remembered giving Ben permission to offer what he wanted, and they were asking Nikita to participate in another murder that had never been part of the initial arrangement, in addition to underpaying her for that first job, so it was probably fair.

"Not funny," Trudi snapped, now sounding frustrated. "Where is that money supposed to come from?"

Jackson shrugged, shifting his gaze to look at Lisa, who was stirring again. "I assume from an account." He should probably care more- if Trudi was genuinely upset, there was a reason. But he wasn't at all interested in talking about money at the moment, and besides, he didn't have his mind together quite well enough to decide if this was her usual rant, or if there was a real problem.

"One of yours?" the Brit asked pointedly. "Because your funds are spent." That should have been enough, but Jackson still remained silent. The woman was somewhat anal retentive about such things. He knew she was about to break it down for him, and listening was easier than responding. He was tempted to hand the phone off to Lisa and see if she wanted to handle it for him, but that was probably the medication talking.

"You only got a million for this, you know," Trudi continued, just as Jackson knew she would. He ran a hand through his unkempt hair while he waited for information that he didn't know. "Mercedes spent her 800K, and then some, so you have to find a way to cover...one-fifty, plus whatever you wanted to pay the actual team." Jackson raised an eyebrow at this. Jamie had managed to spend almost a million just on bribes, contractors, and other expenses? Impressive. "Robert got his 100, but I have no idea what he did with it and I have a feeling we're not getting anything that's left over back, right?"

"We're not," Jackson confirmed, cracking the joints in his neck with a satisfying pop. Any money that was in Robert and Co.'s accounts would go to the agency, or more specifically, the director. So whomever ended up taking over for Marie would have access, and that wasn't going to be him. He looked down again, watching the curiosity in Lisa's hazy eyes. "Money," he summarized to her, holding his hand over the phone. "Trudi's freaking out. She does that." He raised an eyebrow at the snarky expression on Lisa's face at the mention of the woman's name. Apparently they hadn't hit it off, but he wasn't quite sure when they would have even had a chance to have a sour relationship. He would probably figure it out if he actually thought about it, but he only had enough brain power for one issue at a time.

"I do that when you hand out thousands like Pez," Trudi snapped, and Jackson grinned faintly. Somewhere in his brain, he knew he should be taking her seriously, but it all seemed like such a non-issue at the moment. If he had to dip into his own accounts, fine. He would recoup the loss in the next job- that was what savings were for.

"Go on," he urged her, turning on the speaker setting and placing the phone on Lisa's chest. It wasn't his goal to share the conversation, but he didn't really care if she heard it, either. He just didn't feel like holding the phone up anymore.

"You're already down almost the entire one-fifty," Trudi continued when Jackson didn't reply. "I mean, your expenses come to ten grand, and with her first ten, you've given _fifty_ to this Nikita woman for practically _nothing_, twenty to Jeff, and ten for Thomas, which leaves you with-"

"Twenty more for Thomas, and tack on another ten for Jeff," Jackson interrupted. He would normally give the doctor another ten, but the man was now involved in the Marie job and was about to have the CIA in his house. Jackson figured tossing in another ten for his trouble was the polite thing to do. The extra ten for Jeff was partially for whatever he had to do to keep Jackson and Lisa alive, and partially to keep his mouth shut about it, complaint-wise.

"It wasn't _nothing_," Lisa added, frowning. "Isn't she taking a big risk helping?" Jackson nodded, glad that she had taken the next point right out of his mouth. Talking still wasn't the easiest of tasks.

"So we're over by 170 bloody grand, and you still haven't paid the team?" Trudi demanded, not addressing Lisa's point, and Jackson just shook his head. Every damn time. Apparently this _was_ just one of her rants.

"We knew that was going to happen," he reminded her. They had known from the start that the million probably wouldn't cover everything, as usual. This was how it worked- they received a minimal budget, they went over said budget, Jackson supplied money from his own account, and they presented the loss to Marie, hoping she would replenish the funds. Of course, he wasn't sure how it was going to work this time- it might be quite a while before he saw that money, if he ever did. Not to mention that he was rarely more than 200 grand over budget, so this amount _was_ unusual. Unusual, but not a _problem_. There was a difference. "Just set aside another two...something- seventy for Mercedes, sixty for Alex, fifty for Devon...Michael, and...Jessica. Figure it out."

He was too tired to fucking add. It was almost too much to keep the pseudonyms straight- he hadn't had to use Caleb's 'Michael' in years. Come to think of it, Jackson wasn't even sure that account was still open. Whatever- if it wasn't, they would figure out a way to get it to him. It all seemed right, though. Sixty was his going rate for his second, so Jamie would receive that for the Georgia job plus another ten for helping with Marie. Ben's share might be seen as steep, but he was a second as well and the man had been part of three fucking jobs for Jackson at this point, so let him have it. Devon, one of his lower levels, was getting his usual flat rate, and both Caleb and Lisa seemed to deserve the same amount for their work, even if neither of them were technically associates. It was a mess, but it made sense for now, to him at least.

"Two-ninety," Trudi replied after a pause, her voice heavy with disbelief. "Plus the one-sixty. Plus _you're_ not getting paid. You really think it's a good idea to be down almost half a million?"

"It's every man's dream," Jackson informed her, rubbing his temple with the palm of his hand. "Just make it happen." He gave a go-ahead nod to Lisa, who hung up the phone, pulling herself into a sitting position. She handed the phone to Jackson, looking so purely amused, and he raised an eyebrow. It wasn't the response he had expected, to say the least.

"Your job is boring," she told him, and then frowned. "Oh, that wasn't the right response, was it?" She tilted her head, twisting her expression into wide-eyed surprise. "That's a lot of money, Jackson. Are you sure...blah blah…" she trailed off, her mouth slowly contorting into an amused smile, and she laughed, wrinkling her nose. "I can't do it."

Jackson chuckled, setting the phone on the nightstand. "You might be one of those people who can't hold their morphine," he remarked, carefully stretching. Jesus, he hated laying still like this.

"How are the cravings?" Lisa replied, slowly leaning forward to stretch her leg muscles. Jackson envied her ability to move semi-freely- he was beyond miserable where he was.

"Like being at a carnival," he replied half-heartedly, frowning at the patches of blue, purple, and almost black that he knew were hidden under the hoodie. He did want a cigarette, but he really hadn't thought much about it. He knew it was going to be a while before he could have one, anyway. It was more of a reminder how helpless he was at the moment than anything else.

Lisa nodded. "So you're rich?" she asked, apparently disregarding any kind of propriety. Not that Jackson really cared.

"No," he replied, watching her careful movements. He took a moment to appreciate how beautiful she was, so...alive compared to the first few hours after regaining consciousness. "There's a little over a million in my accounts, so…"

"...so you're losing half of your savings." Lisa finished his sentence, now sounding more concerned. "Is that normal?" She didn't elaborate, which was a relief. Asking questions like these, trying to get a grasp on what he actually did, was one thing, but Jackson wasn't in the mood to be second-guessed again. He knew what he was doing, and it was nice to see that she was acknowledging it.

"We have that conversation almost every time," he replied, taking a drink of mostly-stagnant water from the glass on the nightstand. "It's just a routine…" He grinned, setting the glass down again. "Imagine if she knew there might not be a way to get it back this time." He shrugged, finding speaking not as much of a chore as before. Maybe it was just the person he was talking to, not the act itself.

Lisa laughed, sitting up straight again. "She'd really freak out, right?" She looked down at Jackson, serious again, and he could read the question in her eyes. _What happens next?_

He frowned, trying to think of anything else to say. He knew that she wasn't about to ask a question like that out loud, and that was a small comfort, but he felt as though he had to say something to make it disappear from those eyes. He didn't have an answer for that question in the slightest. At the moment, he wasn't even living day-to-day- it was more like hour-to-hour. He couldn't even tell her exactly how or when she was getting to Minnesota.

But that wasn't possible. He couldn't pretend for a moment that whatever future await them, Lisa would be in it. That wasn't a question anymore- the issue was getting used to having someone to answer to and to involve in his thoughts. And if the _first_issue had been a struggle, this was going to be a fucking battle.

The previous conversation with Ben came back to him, and Jackson knew that what might have been a personal decision now had to involve the woman next to him. She was going to find out anyway, and it could even be considered practice for...the rest of their lives? "Remember I said Spencer is coming at some point today?" he asked, reversing his earlier position of leaving it all for the meeting. He didn't really want to get into it, but if he exposed Lisa to the idea now, he could avoid a blindsided gut reaction, and give himself a chance to explain his position away from the CIA agent.

Lisa nodded, and Jackson continued. "Well, part of it is that the CIA ordered the hit on Marie, and apparently, they want me to take her place."

"You look less than thrilled," Lisa noted, carefully resuming her position on Jackson's arm. "Don't want to be a director?"

Jackson shook his head. "Let's just say that I have a complicated relationship with Spencer, who is this division's main liaison, and it would make for a partnership open to exploitation," he began, quickly adding a hasty, "I'll tell you about it sometime" to prevent more questions.

That was true. Whether either of them wanted to acknowledge it- and Jackson was still fairly sure Spencer was no more anxious to speak to him than he was to her- there was a myriad of emotions laying in wait that wouldn't exist if they had another director. Either they would be more irrationally protective or stubbornly callous...Jackson couldn't decide which yet. It was also possible that he was being used as a convenience for the CIA to be more involved in the agency- they really hated not having their hand in every jar. It was entirely possible that Spencer could come in playing the concerned mother role and try to form some kind of relationship with Jackson to that end. He just couldn't know until it happened.

"And I'm not sure I want to keep doing this, anyway," he admitted, not caring if Lisa would jump on it. When she remained surprisingly quiet, he continued. "My one rule has always been that the agency can't run on betrayal and double dealing. There's been so much, and I have a feeling that it just gets worse the higher I go," he concluded, deciding to leave out the fact that being a director would remove him even more from the work itself, and more often than not, he missed just being a lead and working with his team. She probably wouldn't consider that aspect a con.

Lisa still said nothing. She looked deep in thought, nodding occasionally to indicate that she was still listening. "But on the other hand, if I decline, we could end up with someone more corrupt, and God knows when or how we'll actually find that replacement. Usually the analyst mediates the transfer of authority, but we're killing him, too." Jackson chuckled dryly, scratching his jaw.

"I don't think anything like this has happened before. Choosing a manager to promote will be a nightmare, and who has the authority to actually appoint them? Do we vote? This isn't the Five Families." He laughed again, knowing he was now entirely rambling into irrelevance and had to get back on track. "The CIA could very well step in themselves, and the entire point of the agency is that we aren't tied to them. We don't share anything but the occasional piece of intel and sometimes we bail each other out. That's supposed to be it."

"Sounds like you don't have a choice," Lisa replied when Jackson remained silent. She sounded matter-of-fact, but Jackson still heard the concern in her voice. "Maybe take over in the...interim, until you can find someone to be more permanent, and if you end up having to stay as director, just be extra careful when dealing with Spencer."

Jackson nodded warily, watching Lisa's eyes light up in excitement, and knew that she was far from finished. He waited for her to explain whatever thought had perked her up- his curiosity was definitely piqued as to what could make the woman want to talk him into accepting the position when days ago, she was ready to deliver him an ultimatum.

"Think about the opportunity, Jackson- you can control what goes on. You decide what jobs to take. You can influence the entire agency, or at least your division. Everything Marie screwed up, you can do your way, and there's going to be double-crossing no matter who is in charge, so it might as well be you...at least you can do something about it with teams behind you."

Jackson raised an amused eyebrow. Everything Lisa was saying made sense, but he had more than a sneaking suspicion that she had other motives for this new stance. Sure enough, Lisa flashed him a guilty smile. "You'll be safer, right? Directors don't do the dirty work...everything you said about being a manager is even more true as a director…isn't it?"

Jackson scoffed quietly. He knew she had ulterior motives. Lisa frowned, rolling onto her stomach and propping herself up again. "I meant all of it," she insisted, answering his accusation without him having to make it. "I think it could be a great opportunity for you, and I also like that it keeps you safer."

Jackson shook his head, feeling like an asshole all over again. "I didn't think-" he began, but it was mostly a lie. He should have known better- his paranoia was going to be his biggest roadblock in this transition. "It makes sense," he admitted, discarding his attempt to pretend that he hadn't thought the worst of her. And it did, really. Again, he was abstaining from making such a snap decision, but Lisa had definitely given him more to think about. Not that he had a lot of time.

He opened his mouth to continue, but was cut off by an incoming text message. He quickly reached for his phone again, anxiously flipping it open to read the message.

_"Checking in from Dallas: Michael off to rendezvous w/ Mercedes. Holding at JJ's with La Femme. A."_

Jackson grinned faintly at Ben's penchant for playing it official. "It's starting," he explained to Lisa, holding the phone so she could read the message. "Now you finally get to see what being a manager is _usually_ like."

* * *

**Reviewers will get a side story for this chapter, but the content is a surprise! :)**


	41. Born Villain

**Did I actually manage to post two chapters in the same month? :P I'm totally done predicting how many chapters are left in this story- I know where it's going to end, but I don't think I can wrap it up in one more chapter. Maybe I can, or maybe it will be five more. Jesus.**

**This chapter is kinda fun, I think. The characters seem to overlap each other, and it was pretty enjoyable giving Jackson-like lines to both Mama Rippner and Caleb, and to finally bring Jamie into the fold with her hints of Ben. I don't know why I get such a kick out of making them behave like each other. :) **

**Eva**- There are not enough ways to thank you for your support over the months. If you thought the _last _chapter had a teasing ending, you just wait. It's about to get better/worse.

**Pirate Gyrl**- I'm glad you like the conversations. :) Mostly, I'm glad they make sense to people who aren't in my head. It's a little harder to get it all out without my beta, but life goes on.

I _loved_ writing my drugged-up Jackson. It was fun for me to have him mocking this woman who's just trying to be the voice of reason (and is actually in the right) when he's usually the voice of reason with the team. And having him so not on top of things but so _not_ caring.

**KnoKnayme- **It should be pretty exciting, I think. :) Marie's coming down next chapter (fingers crossed).

**REUNION!**

* * *

**Chapter 40: Born Villain **

Caleb swiftly folded the newspaper he hadn't been reading and shoved it in his duffel bag, getting to his feet from his partially hidden spot near the exit. 'His' flight from Miami had landed about 15 minutes previously, so he quickly melded in with the exiting passengers, making his way the rest of the way to baggage claim as though it really was his plane that had landed.

He felt much more exposed and out of place than he would have had he gone through security and waited near the gate, but it wasn't advisable to attempt such a thing with a gun tucked in his belt. Hell, it wasn't advisable to be at an airport period with a gun on him, but there was no other way to carry it. He had considered at least hiding it in his bag, but he didn't feel comfortable with the Colt so far out of reach.

He gave a nod to Jamie, pretending that he was seeing her for the first time even though he had already passed her and Matthieu earlier. Caleb couldn't wait forever by the baggage claim without arousing suspicion, and if he had come too late, Matthieu would have seen him, so it had been her job to distract the Frenchman and give Caleb that opportunity to sneak by.

Caleb approached the duo, unsure of exactly what to say. He hadn't seen Jamie in years, obviously, and normally, he would assume they would discuss the job, but with Matthieu silently staring at them, it was even more awkward. But he figured that was okay- Jackson probably wouldn't be as comfortable with the man, either, and tended to be a man of few words at times anyway.

He did stiffen slightly when he felt Matthieu's hand on his back, mere inches above the grip of his gun, and he pulled away from the man. "I don't need an escort," he spat in a low tone, adjusting the brim of his baseball cap. Obviously Marie would find out at some point that he wasn't Jackson, but as Ben had pointed out earlier, they didn't want her knowing from first glance and the twins' different haircuts were a dead giveaway.

Caleb smirked, still staring straight ahead as he heard Matthieu whispering in his ear. "Don't try anything- I have a gun."

"You just announce those things?" he antagonized, chuckling as he bit down on his lower lip to keep back a genuine all-out laugh. "Little hint," he continued as the trio headed for the exit. He was both genuinely amused and wanted to get this man angry, which would hopefully lead to him acting sloppier than he was now- if that was possible.

"You're not going to shoot either of us in an airport, so all your threat did is expose just how out of your league you are right now," he explained, his tone still soft but conversational. He was aware that he was being rather hypocritical considering the Colt that was tucked into his own jeans, but it wasn't as though he was _announcing_ it was there. It was a very last resort. "And if that's how you want to play it, then Jamie and I will stay right here and you can explain to your sister how you botched your first field assignment in...fifteen years?" he laughed again, "Jesus Christ- all you had to do was escort us."

He shot Jamie an incredulous look, shaking his head. "And _furthermore_," continued, absolutely loving how defeated the man looked already. As much as he must hate himself for that stupid little comment now, it was about to get worse- Caleb hadn't even started. "Wasn't the whole killing us plan supposed to be a _surprise_?"

He grinned, walking in step with Matthieu as they were led into the parking garage. He couldn't see the man's face anymore, but that was alright. He could see his posture, and his posture just wanted Caleb to shut the fuck up. "Quelle surprise _en effet_, mon ami."

He shot Jamie a wink, nodding for her to follow Matthieu to the driver's side. The woman grinned back at him, hovering behind Matthieu as the analyst begrudgingly got in the car. Caleb was pleasantly surprised that the man wasn't arguing back- he knew he had failed.

"What the fuck, Jackson?" Jamie called out as Caleb opened the passenger door, somehow managing to remain completely serious despite how phony the words were. "Why exactly are we going if she's going to kill us?" _That_ got Matthieu, who hadn't closed the door yet. Caleb watched him turn to reply to her. Like the desk monkey he was, he had turned his back on Caleb, and the younger man took advantage of that brief moment.

Caleb quickly ducked into the passenger seat, grabbing the analyst's hand and shoving with all his strength, driving the car keys into the Frenchman's neck. He used his free hand to grip Matthieu's nape, pulling him close to Caleb's thighs and swiftly removing the keys from his throat, hardly noticing the wet sucking sound his actions caused. The jet of warm blood across Caleb's shins let him know that he had definitely hit a major vein- likely the jugular.

He tangled his now free hand in Matthieu's jacket and tugged sharply, helping Jamie to swiftly move him to the floor near his feet. He calmly held the older man, who had once been like an uncle in the twins' early twenties, out of view until he heard the last wet grasp for air, waiting a few more seconds for good measure.

Caleb calmly picked up the keys from under the body, wiping away the blood with his shirt. His attention was stolen by Jamie as the younger woman threw her arms around him, squeezing tightly.

"Missed you," she told him, placing a platonic kiss on his lips with a wide smile. Caleb chuckled, staring down at his blood-soaked jeans. He hadn't told Jamie it was going to be him instead of Jackson, but he supposed he shouldn't be surprised that she knew right away.

"You too," he replied genuinely, handing off the car keys. "I should probably change before we get to Bennington." He directed Jamie toward his own car that they had left in the same ramp, waiting while she transferred the rest of the equipment from Caleb's trunk to this car's. He dug through Matthieu's pocket, tossing the dead man another glance as he handed the parking ticket over to Jamie.

"Do you think we're being set up?" he asked as they exited the ramp. The entire thing had been so pathetically easy, but he had to keep reminding himself that while Marie might also be out of practice, but the woman was still a legendary assassin. He couldn't afford to keep being cocky about it, that was for damn sure. Maybe it was too easy- wasn't Marie smarter than this?

"You think she sacrificed her brother so we would let our guard down?" Jamie answered his question with another, frowning. Like Caleb, she seemed more bothered by the possibility than dismissing it as paranoia. "Probably," she finished, finally answering both of their questions. Caleb turned his head to finally look at his former teammate. More than anyone else he had seen so far, she looked so different. It was to be expected, though- she _was _only nineteen when he had left. Sometimes he forgot how much younger she was than the rest of them.

Jamie caught him looking, and grinned, pulling out of the airport loop to merge with traffic. "See something you like?" she teased softly, watching the road again. Caleb chuckled, lighting a cigarette before remembering that he had to awkwardly hold it with his left hand due to the blood smeared down his right. _Damn_.

"You do look good, Jameson," he replied honestly, sliding on the Wayfarers again.

Jamie laughed harder, bracing her knees on the steering wheel as she tied back her thick curls with a hairtie. "I haven't heard that in _years_," she admitted, and Caleb frowned slightly. It hadn't even been his nickname for her- it was Jackson's. They were Jameson and Jack Daniels, or J.D. "Things are a lot different now," she explained with a soft shrug, and Caleb nodded. He had definitely seen _that_.

He reached into his back pocket, pulling out his cell to text Ben that they were on the way. The plastic slipped from his hand, thankfully landing on his thighs instead of in the pool of blood now seeping into his shoes, not the Caleb noticed. He knew that scent. He glanced up, finally noticing his surroundings, and his jaw dropped slightly.

Of all the cars in Marie's possession, she just had to send _Cheryl's_.

No, he couldn't get caught up in it. Not because they didn't have time- on the contrary, they unfortunately had hours to go before arriving in Oklahoma- but because the wound was still too new, and the mix of emotions would be clear as day across his face. He definitely wasn't getting into it, not with any of them. It would just hold him- them- back, and there were more important things to concentrate on.

Attempting to push the burst of fresh pain from his mind, Caleb lifted the phone again and reverted to cold, hard math, quickly typed out his message to Ben.

_On our way- 10 min. Don't let Nikita drive._

"What's been going on?" he asked, finally replying to Jamie's last statement as he hit play on _Hellbilly Deluxe_, the CD he already knew would be there, and scanned forward to "Dragula". He closed his eyes, leaning his head back as he let Rob Zombie flood his senses, absorbing some of his frustration. It might be considered rude to start music just when he asked Jamie a question, but that's how they had always been. It felt weird to _not _have music in the background at this point. He did care what she had to say, but he was more interested in the distraction. Like Ben, the woman could talk freely longer than most people he knew, and if he listened, he didn't have to think.

* * *

Ben hobbled toward the car as Jamie pulled into the parking lot. He _really _hated those fucking crutches- they just added to his awkward lankiness and drew unnecessary attention.

"Well, hello, Miss Jaylin," he greeted as the younger woman met him by the trunk. Of course Jamie wasn't the woman's real name- it was yet another pseudonym, provided by Ben himself. It had started as a joke, a play on her actual name- Jaylin Mercedes- but it had stuck like most monikers he bestowed on people._  
_

"Hey yourself, B. It went fine, but Cal thinks it was too easy," Jamie explained, popping open the trunk and digging through one of the bags. "I should have brought the rest," she finished, referring to the team she had sent back to New York.

Ben shrugged as best he could, watching her pull out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. "No way to get them there without calling attention," he reminded her, not surprised in the slightest by her first statement. He had suspected from the get go that this wasn't a normal meeting, after all. "Not your fault." He motioned to the winter survival kit near the bags- specifically, the blanket folded underneath. "We should probably cover the body," he offered, and then frowned. He had seen these types of kits in the trunk of a car before, but only in the Midwest.

"Cal's being kinda weird," she admitted, grabbing the blanket with her free arm. "Not really a surprise though, right?"

Ben didn't respond, staring instead at the license plate of the car. Minnesota plates, and it definitely wasn't Caleb's vehicle. _Fuck a_ _duck_. "Did he say anything?" he asked, grabbing the woman's arm to keep her there. He was pretty sure he knew the source of Caleb's 'weirdness', but confirmation might be nice.

Jamie shook her head. "Does he ever?" she asked lightly, but there was something grave in her tone.

Ben chuckled. "True," he replied, handing a small bag to her. "Got you a sandwich," he explained. "Love the hair, by the way- _fierce_."

"You should," Jamie said with a laugh, leading the two to the driver's seat. "It was fucking expensive. You driving, then?"

"Mhm," Ben replied, bracing himself on the driver door as she tossed the blanket and clothes to Caleb. "Too messy for Nik's delicate sensibilities, I guess." He shot a grin at the redhead, who was already in the backseat, staring at the floorboard.

Jamie just laughed again, grabbing Ben's crutches and taking her place in the backseat next to the Russian. Ben awkwardly maneuvered himself into the driver's seat, glancing over at Caleb, who had his feet propped on the covered corpse. "What did you do?" he asked with a grin, eyeing the blood that coated the younger man's jeans.

"Keys," Caleb replied calmly, but Ben saw the smallest of proud smiles on his face. _There_ was that bloodthirsty Cal he had known so well.

"Fucking beautiful, kid," he praised, pulling out of the parking lot and back onto the main street. He glanced over occasionally as Caleb stripped down to his briefs and Converse, noting that the man was actually doing a remarkable job pretending he was fine. If Ben didn't know him so well, he might have missed the slight tremble in the younger man's fingers and the movements that were less fluid than normal as he pulled on the fresh clothes.

Caleb used the already-ruined t-shirt to wipe at his Converse. He didn't have another pair of shoes, so he was trying to remove the blood as best he could. He did manage to wipe it from the rubber, and thankfully, it didn't show all that well against the black fabric, but there was no cleaning the laces. "I guess I'll have rusty laces," he joked weakly, tossing the shirt down near the blanket. "Total fashion _faux pas_, isn't it?"

Ben smiled grimly, nodding. Caleb was definitely upset, but Ben wasn't going to say shit- he knew better. For now, he had to leave it be and let Caleb do his thing. And besides, Ben's thoughts weren't exactly constructive to the whole 'moving on' thing. He just flat-out didn't buy the story. He had seen Cheryl and Robert together so many times over the years, and he had never seen _anything_ between them that resembled attraction. From Robert, yes, but from Cheryl? Ben knew through Caleb that the manager had been hitting on Cheryl from her first day on the team, but he had never seen her return any of it. Maybe she was just that good at hiding it, but Ben was well aware that it was easier to pretend that you have feelings for someone that don't exist than it is to hide feelings that are there.

But it was just a thought, and likely a stupid one. Why would she go through all that trouble of pretending that she was cheating on Caleb with Robert? It seemed a stretch- to say the least- that she faked _everything_ just to bring Caleb back into the fold, to motivate the brothers beyond their obligations. The woman wasn't a martyr- why would she go through all that trouble just to make it personal? To make it easier to kill her in Lisa's place? She didn't even fucking _know_ the Floridian- she wouldn't sacrifice herself for _her_.

No, it was just Ben's wild imagination, and so he kept his mouth shut. And would _always_ keep it shut. Even if he was right, telling Caleb would only fuck up the younger man more than he was already. It was pointless. If Cheryl was just a bitch, let her be a dead bitch. If she had inexplicably set up this elaborate self-sacrificing con, then who was he to expose it?

Shaking his head at his own irrationality, Ben pulled out his phone, firing off a text to Jackson. _Joseph's out. Napoleon next._ He grinned to himself, knowing the nerdy history buff in Jackson would get a kick out of the code names Ben had given Matthieu and Marie, Joseph and Napoleon Bonaparte. Maybe Napoleon and Josephine would have been more correct sex-wise, but Marie was hardly Josephine and Matthieu was sure as shit no Napoleon. He waited, almost giddy, for the response Jackson wouldn't be able to stop himself from sending.

_To Waterloo, Iron Duke._

Ben shook his head. _What a nerd._

* * *

Jackson clenched and relaxed his jaw for what seemed like the hundredth time, fidgeting with his cuticles. He had never been a nail-bitter- Caleb had been the one with that particular tick- but his nails were already ripped to shreds nonetheless. With each passing hour, the confidence that he could handle this "reunion" like any other job was eroding.

He let his hand drop to Lisa's head, absently tangling his fingers in her short, soft waves, his short nails barely grazing her scalp. He had caught himself rambling to her too many times, giving her every bit of information and warning except the one piece that mattered. He had whittled away at the topics she was allowed to bring up before Lisa reminded him that she didn't have a reason to talk to the woman.

If the former redhead picked up on his uncharacteristically naked anxiety, which she likely did, she wasn't picking at it. And now she was asleep yet again, which was both good and bad for Jackson. It was good in the sense that he didn't have to worry about saying the wrong thing too soon, but it left him with nothing to do. The news had been ruled out already, which gave him an irritating selection of daytime soap operas and Judge Judy. Could have been Joe Brown, Mathis, or Marilyn Milian, come to think of it. It was all the same, and it all gave him insufficient distraction.

Jackson reached for another syringe, biting his lower lip at the stab of pain in his ribs. He had slowly but surely pulled himself into a sitting position an hour prior, insisting to only himself that he was not going to be flat on his back for this. It had hurt like a son of a bitch, but it salvaged some of his pride.

Thomas had finally managed to snag him some mepivacaine, a local anesthetic that worked much better than the vicodin, but with the doctor back at work, Jackson had to inject it into the lumbar catheter himself and his current position made that feat much more difficult. But Jackson was stubborn enough to disregard all of this if it meant Spencer didn't have to see him looking so pathetically frail in bed.

He furrowed his eyebrows in concentration, carefully maneuvering his torso and inserting the needle into the tiny tube protruding from his spine. He injected the mepivacaine as Thomas had shown him, tossing the empty syringe in the small trash can next to the bed, and leaned back again, waiting for the epidural to work its beautiful magic again as he stared at his silent phone.

It had been an hour and a half since the Ben's last message, letting him know that the quartet was on their way to Bennington. They still had at about an hour until they arrived, and Jackson was giving them fifteen minutes after their arrival until he would assume the worst, rounding it all up to an hour and a half for kicks.

There was a small part of his brain that wished he could be in that car, working with the team instead of waiting for news, but for the most part, Jackson was completely used to most aspects of this scenario. It did nag at him that Caleb was involved, of course, but Jackson was confident in his younger brother's abilities. If something was going to go wrong, it would be something completely out of their control, and Jackson's presence would never change any of it.

But there was something else bothering Jackson, something he wasn't going to admit to anyone. Something that most people probably wouldn't find surprising- maybe fascinating, or at least interesting- but something that the twins had never actually discussed. Partially because they didn't have to, partially because Jackson assumed Caleb shared his lack of inclination to talk about such things, and partially because it was an embarrassing cliché.

The only way Jackson could ever think to explain it was that he knew something was wrong with Caleb. It wasn't physical pain- it wasn't like the job in England when Caleb had been stabbed and Jackson felt a sting in his own side. It was some kind of emotional distress, the kind that led to Jackson subconsciously taking on his brother's idiosyncrasies- biting his nails, picking at his cuticles. It only seemed to happen when the two were apart, and Jackson had never figured out how to stop it from happening- and calling Caleb to find out what was upsetting him wasn't really-

Actually, it was. Well, calling wasn't an option, because Caleb wasn't about to talk about things with his three person audience- if he was willing to talk at all- but there was nothing stopping Jackson from sending him a text. And maybe it was the medication talking- disregarding that a local wouldn't really impact his thinking- but it seemed like a good idea. It had the benefits of maybe calming his brother down a bit and keeping him from his own impending issues.

Jackson reached for the phone, his hand freezing in mid-air for a moment when the phone buzzed, letting him know he had received a message. Fantastic, another one of _those_ moments. Sure enough, he flipped open the phone and saw that he had received a message from Caleb. More accurately, a message from himself, seeing as how the brothers had switched phones before the younger departed for Oklahoma.

_We'll talk in MN._

Jackson smiled faintly, scoffing slightly in irritated amusement. He fired back a quick '_Deal_' before setting the phone back on the nightstand, rubbing the back of his neck and disinterested in the fact that it was yet another one of Caleb's common gestures. It encouraged him and even gave him comfort knowing that it seemed he and his brother were finally on their way to repairing their many issues. And that the younger man knew exactly what to say to him sometimes.

Maybe it was the whole experience of almost dying yet again, but the problems between the twins were seeming so...'nothing' wasn't the correct word, but it all seemed so much easier than it had a few days prior. So what if-

Jackson's entire moment of uncharacteristic warm fuzzies and disgusting optimism was abruptly killed by the sound of the front door of Thomas' home opening. He held his breath, barely acknowledging Jeff's muted voice in the silent tension, and within a few seconds, he heard _that_ voice. The voice he hadn't heard in three years but one that he could never forget or misplace.

He had only heard his mother's voice a handful of times in the last decade, which was nothing compared to most normal people in the world. He talked to her during prison visits and the occasional phone call, but neither had much to say to each other, both unwilling to carry on as though the events that December evening- eleven years ago, next week- had never happened.

Jackson instinctively reached for the pack of cigarettes in his pants before remembering that not only did he not have any, he was absolutely not allowed to smoke. He took a deep breath instead, bringing his fingers absently to his lips as he mimed the unhealthy habit- it helped sometimes. Not this time, though.

As the footsteps approached, Jackson glanced down at his chest. Despite his lack of shirt, it could hardly be called 'bare'- he had three bandages covering his various bullet holes. He should have taken a shower when he had the chance. He knew he looked so pathetically weak and worn out, hardly like a man with any kind of grasp on his life, and definitely not the man he wanted her to see.

Jackson pressed his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose and squeezed, trying to calm the hell down and get a grip. After all, everything he said regarding how he didn't care about her, about how she wasn't his mother anymore and didn't matter was a bunch of lies if he couldn't manage to keep it together now of all times. And despite everything that was screaming otherwise in his mind, he still wanted to believe it was the truth. She couldn't get to him because she was just another person.

Jackson exhaled deeply, releasing his face and looking up in time to see the familiar figure in the doorway. Thankfully, his last attempt at a rally had made an impact. He found himself able to stare steadily at the woman, his resolve not wavering when her gaze dropped to his many wounds, both covered and old scars and the warm concern softened her hard features.

Jackson remained silent, turning his head to follow his mother's movement as she walked across the room and sat at the edge of the opposite bed. Unfortunately, the older woman seemed in no hurry to say anything, and Jackson finally broke the silence.

"You're a little late for the silent vigil," he told her, managing to keep the bitterness from his voice. "Are we going to talk, or not?"

The question seemed to catch Spencer off guard, but she recovered quickly and smiled wryly, getting to her feet. Jackson watched in discomfort as her hand approached his forehead, as though she was going to smooth back his hair. She hesitated, seemingly thinking better of it, and retracted her hand. She studied him, that same somehow taunting smile teasing her lips.

"You look..." she trailed off, and Jackson felt his blood run cold. _Bitch_. He knew what was coming, because he had taken these same cheap shots more than once in his life, and chances were, he would take one at her before the night was over.

"Just say it," he muttered through clenched teeth. Let her have her moment and then they could get to it- he was already finished with this circling.

"...so much like your father."

Jackson just nodded, not phased in the slightest. He was well aware- almost every physical feature he and Caleb had came from James. "Alright," he responded blandly, "Was that it?"

Spencer shook her head, sitting down again. "Actually," she began nonchalantly, crossing one leg over the other and lighting a cigarette. **_Bitch_**. "I was waiting for you to explain yourself."

Jackson chuckled dryly in disbelief. She was hardly one to demand any kind of explanation for anything. "I wasn't aware that I owed you one," he replied just as flatly, reaching forward slightly to take the offered cigarette without a second thought. Fuck the rules, and didn't Thomas say coughing was good for him anyway?

"So you went through all the trouble of setting up this elaborate explosion faking that woman's death and making a big mess that we have to clean up, and you think you don't need to explain yourself?" Spencer asked, raising a delicate eyebrow. "She's quite the pain in our ass right now."

_She's like that sometimes._ That's what Jackson might have said, if he was talking to Caleb or maybe Ben, shutting down the topic in a way that was both honest and made a slight joke at Lisa's expense, but not with this woman. They weren't close enough for anything more than a short drag and a "No, I don't."

Spencer sighed, taking the cigarette back from Jackson as he coughed sharply, wincing at the pain. "Do you want my help or not?" she snapped. "We know that woman isn't Reisert, and this entire imbroglio has gotten to the point that we can't say it's her without any evidence that she was ever involved."

"That would be your problem, wouldn't it?" Jackson replied, trying to hold back a smug smile. "What are you going to do otherwise, say it's someone else?" Fuck it, he didn't _want_ to hold it back. "Are you going to hold a press conference and say that not only did Lisa stage her own death, she murdered some unknown person in the process?"

The brunette woman took a deep drag, shooting Jackson a sharp look. "Of course not. Who would believe it? That woman couldn't assassinate a squirrell."

"What does that make Keefe?" The two Rippners quickly turned their attention to Lisa as she sat up, her glare focused on Spencer. Jackson raised an eyebrow, giving the woman a small smile even though she wasn't even looking at him. She obviously hadn't been quite as asleep as he had thought. "Because I killed him," Lisa finished, and then narrowed her eyes at the other woman, thinking. "I know you."

She turned to Jackson, her face showing a handful of negative emotions. "That's Spencer? Your 'in' at the CIA?" she asked, sounding almost accusatory. Jackson only nodded, knowing where she was going with this but not wanting to hear it. There was only one way she could know the CIA agent. Sure enough, Lisa leaned forward, still frowning. "She was one of the people who questioned me after the flight," she explained softly, and Jackson didn't need her to finish.

He turned to face his mother again, his eyes flashing. "You helped set her up?" he asked the woman, who was obviously still surprised to see Lisa there. Apparently she hadn't recognized her at first. "What-"

"Of course I did," Spencer snapped, quickly regrouping as she met Jackson's eye contact. "It was my goddamn idea, but I wouldn't have had to if you wouldn't have been careless enough to give her your _real name_. Jesus, what if that had gone public? What about your brother? What the hell were _you_ thinking?" she finished, turning Jackson's interrupted question back on him.

"It wasn't your place," Jackson snapped back just as ferociously, now unwilling to look back at Lisa. He didn't think Spencer had given away enough information with that outburst to identify herself, and he didn't want to know if he was wrong. He couldn't waste time thinking about it.

"I was protecting all of us, and don't you dare pretend you would have done otherwise," his mother replied, undeterred.

Jackson opened his mouth to reply, but he was stopped by a hand on his forearm. He still didn't turn, but he heard Lisa all the same. "It's done," she said softly, imploring him to drop the entire thing before sliding her fingers down his arm to take his hand in hers and squeezing. Jackson returned the gentle pressure, frowning slightly. He knew Spencer was right. He could shift the blame all he wanted, but really, he couldn't be surprised or even that angry about what she had done. There were other ways she could have handled it, but when it came down to it, Jackson was far from innocent.

"So what do you want, exactly?" Lisa asked the agent, her voice harder again, and Jackson bit back another smile. She seemed to pick up on his animosity and was taking his side, no explanation necessary. Or she didn't appreciate being called a pain in the ass or the implication that she was weak. At least, not when it was coming from someone other than Jackson, because he had said both.

Jackson's mental smile faded as he focused his attention on his mother instead. He didn't need the older woman to answer Lisa's question. He already knew what she had come for, and it wasn't exactly talking. "She's here for you," he replied for her, his grip tightening. He didn't need it explained because it made perfect sense. The feds wanted to torture some kind of confession from the young woman, tying her to the entire plot, and then either imprison or execute her. It was clean and so much easier, and would happen over his dead body.

"Miss Reisert-" Spencer began, more formal than she had been, but Lisa cut her off immediately.

"That's not my name," she insisted, squeezing Jackson's hand. Jackson seriously wondered for a split second if she was reading his mind. The small woman was picking up on his anger so acutely- the more tense he became, the harder her voice came out. He was used to this, in a way, but it usually came from his associates, who were trained professionals and knew how to read body language cues better than actual words most of the time.

Spencer sighed again, taking another drag. "It could be again," she replied, and Jackson recognized the attempt to remain patient. He wanted to cut in right then, insist that Lisa wasn't interested, but he definitely did not speak for the woman and he was moderately curious as to how Spencer was going to try to sell this plan. "I'm here to bring you back home."

_Jesus Christ_. Jackson clenched his jaw, trying to remain silent, but he couldn't hold it in. "Bull_shit_," he spat, instinctively pulling Lisa closer to him. Spencer glanced down, seemingly noticing their hands for the first time. She lifted her gaze back up to Jackson, her eyes flaring. He could easily read the _are you fucking kidding me?_ in those dark pools. He stared right back at her, not backing down at all. Of course he loved Lisa, and she loved him. What did Spencer think- they were risking their lives for the fun of it?

"Could you excuse us, Jane Doe?" she asked, not looking away from her son. Any of the patience she had once shown was quickly dissipating. Jackson shook his head, but released his grip on Lisa. He wanted her to stay, but he was not going to hold her there.

"Whatever you want to say, you can say in front of her," Jackson replied, knowing full well the consequences of his words. If Lisa was going to find out about his mother, she would find out. He just didn't feel like keeping the truth from her in the moment. He let out an internal sigh of relief when he didn't feel Lisa moving from the bed. True to her word, she was staying at his side.

"Alright," Spencer said, her voice betraying her surprise. She had obviously picked up on the fact that either Lisa didn't know who she was, and likely didn't know what- if anything- the younger woman knew about their past. "You can't be with her, Jackson. You can't trust civilians."

Jackson raised both eyebrows at this, but before he could respond, the older woman continued. "She might think she's alright with it now, but things will change and she could hold you- and your family- hostage with what she knows."

"I would nev-" Lisa began, but Jackson held out his arm across her chest, symbolically stepping in front of her without even moving his legs.

"No," he replied coldly, trying to stand firm while processing every implication behind the woman's words. "You don't- you lost the _right_ to give me advice when you walked out on-"

"And what was I supposed to do?" his mother demanded, her composure cracking just as his was. "I was trying to give you a normal-"

"Then you shouldn't have left us with a_ fucking assassin_," Jackson snapped, his voice raising far beyond his normal volume with each couple of words. He was not a yeller, but he was simply losing his control. "You shouldn't have let it get that-"

"He would have turned me in if I fought back," the woman insisted. "He knew my _name_, Jackson, and he could prove that Cathy Erickson didn't exist until 1980. It would have been my word against his evidence and I would have lost-"

"You lost us anyway!" Jackson yelled back, his voice cracking slightly, unused to the high volume and even higher emotion. Lisa stared down at the tense arm pressing sharply into her chest, completely dumbfounded. If she had thought watching Jackson, Caleb, and Ben argue on the hotel balcony was bad, there were no words for this. She was afraid to touch Jackson for Christ's sake- he might actually strike her. She had never seen his entire muscular structure tensed up like it was at that moment, as though he was using every ounce of self-control that he possessed to stay still.

She wanted to stop him, but there was just no way to calm him down now. She wanted to let him get it out _finally_, but the two were completely losing it on each other, a decade of pain rushing out in purely emotional words, and she didn't think it did either of them any good. Even when Jackson had been threatening his brother's life, he was still composed enough to articulate. The dam was broken, and she had no idea what to do with the flood water.

"I did what I thought was right," Spencer insisted, her voice just as harsh as her son's. Lisa would never have been able to see the resemblance by merely looking at the two, but she would be damned if they weren't mirrors of each other when they spoke. She actually felt some sympathy for the older woman whose eyes were flitting wildly over her son's chest. It was screamingly obvious that she hadn't wanted this life for her kids, which meant that she was telling the truth- she had done her best and knew that it wasn't nearly good enough. "I was trying to-"

"I don't give a damn," Jackson interrupted, lowering his arm to grasp Lisa's thigh. Lisa was honestly surprised he even remembered she was there. Somehow, hearing that line from his mother seemed to pull him back into reality, and his voice seemed to steady, the words coming out with more forethought. "I really don't give a damn right now why you were careless enough to get in that situation, if Dad told you he was going to slit all our throats if you left, or whatever your story is, but you just _don't_ get to pass your shit onto Lisa, and you sure as hell aren't taking her anywhere to-"

"That's her decision, Jackson," Spencer rebuked, choosing to ignore everything else he had said to her. She turned her hard gaze to Lisa, and again, despite the lack of similarity in color and structure, that sharp stare was all too familiar. "Do you want to see your family again?" she asked, but this time, it was almost a threat.

Lisa was sure her jaw dropped, even if it didn't actually move, and she narrowed her eyes. Of course she wanted to see them, but how-

"At least be honest about it," Jackson spat, his grip tightening even more. Lisa was sure he was going to leave tiny bruises on her flesh. "Tell her what you're actually going to do and see if she's really that stupid."

"Oh for Christ's-" Spencer cut herself off, shaking her head slightly. "We're going to clear her name," she insisted, speaking directly to her son again. "People aren't buying this cute little killer- even a confession will be seen as bullshit at this point."

Lisa pursed her lips slightly, knowing it was stupid, but still feeling somewhat offended. She wished the woman wouldn't refer to her so condescendingly. She _was_ a killer. But she wanted to know what the woman was offering more than she wanted to defend her new record, so she kept her mouth shut.

Jackson scoffed, and Lisa saw that despite how much calmer his words were coming out, his body had not relaxed in the slightest. He really did seem to think he was protecting her life. "Give me a fucking break," he replied, not hiding his disbelief in the slightest. "You're going to let her-" He stopped himself suddenly, turning back to look at Lisa for the first time since the beginning of this meeting.

He had intended to voice his doubt that they were going to let Lisa live with everything she knew, but it occurred to him just then that Spencer didn't know everything Lisa knew. If this offer was real...it could be the best option for Lisa. It could give her _life_ back. It changed _everything_, and now he had to know if it was real. He couldn't screw it up for her by jumping the gun.

How many times had he said to himself and out loud that Lisa shouldn't be with him? Shouldn't he give her that chance? He owed her that much, right? It could be the way he made up for getting her into this situation in the first place- letting her go.

Lisa furrowed her brow as Jackson relaxed significantly and his hand abruptly left her thigh. What had changed? Why- and how- did he seem so much more determined yet somehow defeated? She watched him break their eye contact and turn back to Spencer, feeling almost cut loose by the sudden disconnect. She reached for his hand again, but she didn't feel any response this time.

She made eye contact with Spencer again, suddenly feeling much smaller than she had before. What the hell was going _on_? The woman already looked different, more collected herself. She and her son had obviously been communicating with their body language as well as their words, and Jackson's sudden withdrawal seemed to feed her own confidence. Before Spencer even opened her mouth, Lisa knew that whatever was about to be said wasn't an offer- it was an order.

"You were abducted by the Chechens after the flight," Spencer explained, her voice now completely steady. "They planned to kill you for foiling their plans, but decided to keep you around instead and devised a staged death because they knew the authorities were looking for you." Her eyes bore into Lisa's. "Horrible things happened to you, but you managed to escape. And when we catch those 'responsible', you will be only too happy to identify them as the ones who held you hostage."

Lisa wanted to throw up- the words were said so _easily_. She was flat out being told to play this elaborate victim who had been raped, tortured, and God knew what else, and then set up others- did the Chechens have something to do with why Jackson had been talking about learning Russian earlier?- as she ran crying and lying to her family.

This couldn't be real- why wasn't Jackson _saying_ anything? Lisa just didn't understand. He had been dragging his heels, offering responses that ranged from smart ass to full-on wild animal up until now. Did he _agree_?

Gritting her teeth, Lisa lifted up her hand to grab Jackson's jaw, forcing him to turn and look at her. What the _hell_ was he thinking? He owed her _something_. Jesus, she couldn't read that blue this time. There was too much going on, too many emotions swimming around in his irises.

"It's where you belong," he said coldly, his eyes coming into focus, but Lisa shook her head. Not this time. She wasn't buying the ice. It was too abrupt to be real- she had seen Jackson's mask too many times to believe it. She just wanted the damn _truth_. The two stared at each other, both defiantly waiting for the other to back down, but surprisingly, Jackson gave in first.

"You'll be safe, Leese," he clarified, his voice almost a whisper, and Lisa identified one strong emotion creeping back into his eyes- sorrow. She shook her head again, now sickeningly aware of what he was doing.

"What about you?" she asked softly, wishing now more than anything that Spencer would leave. He was still guarded- if only she could get him alone. But no, she just watched as Jackson first seemed to melt at her question, only to harden right back up again.

"I go back to New York with my team," he explained, almost casual now, but Lisa thought she would have to be blind to miss how much he struggled to get the words out. "And that's it."

"'That's it'?" Lisa repeated. "As in…" She didn't know how to say it without sounding over the top dramatic, but she didn't have to. Jackson nodded, and Lisa wanted to cry. 'That's it' as in it was over, she wouldn't see him again. As in, she had to make the choice between her family and him, except she wasn't even being given options.

She shook her head again, more in disbelief that the situation was even happening than refusing the 'offer'. After everything...she could just go home as though none of this had happened? As though she was going to an alternate reality where she was a _heroine_?

"You'll have a future," Jackson insisted, almost pleading with her. "The kind you...wanted, remember?" Lisa heard what he didn't say: _the kind you won't get with me_. A life in the normal world, not the underworld. A life with possibly a husband, children, and back to a stable job. Back to her family. Back to her own name. No guns, no deception and manipulation. No Caleb or Ben. No _Jackson_.

Lisa closed her eyes, feeling the burning of oncoming tears. She couldn't look in his eyes anymore, because it physically hurt. There was no answer she could give that he wanted to hear- she understood him all too well now. But she couldn't answer for him now. She couldn't answer for anyone but herself, and so she concentrated, trying to block out the logic trying to break down every word, every implication, and focused on her heart instead. What did she want?

Lisa shook her head one more time, releasing Jackson's jaw to prop her forehead on her palm. She knew what she wanted. "I'm sorry," she finally whispered, opening her eyes to finally give a response to the waiting Rippners.

* * *

**I'm thinking the side story for this chapter will be the event that got Cheryl transferred to Miami and caused so many problems between the brothers. R&R!**


	42. Blood & Roses-Who Wants to Live Forever?

**Not much to say about this chapter, except that it's easily one of my favorites already. I had Lisa's response vaguely planned in my head, but it mostly wrote itself, and I have to admit that I love how Lisa ended up being almost logical about things and Jackson lets his emotions take control. I thought it was fun. :) And I know it's cheesy as hell, but I couldn't resist a little reference to "Blood and Roses" that's thrown into Lisa's thoughts. Oh well, hope you guys enjoy it! :)**

**If any of my readers are also reading Maybe This is Danger, so sorry that I've been stalling on updating that one. I'm a little stuck, and when mixed with the inspiration to keep writing this one, I honestly don't know when I'll have the next chapter up. Please bear with me.**

**Eva- **I'll send you the latest side story sometime this week, and I know I keep promising and keeep prooomising, but I'll should have the CxL for you sometime this month. If I don't, feel free to nag me. :D

**Guest- **Thanks!

**Without further ado, Lisa and Jackson define 'love' and the OC's decide no one lives forever:**

* * *

**Chapter 41: Blood & Roses/Who Wants to Live Forever?**

Lisa braced herself, preparing for the backlash she knew her answer would earn. "I'm not going back," she insisted, tensing her jaw as she tried to sound more sturdy than she felt.

"Look, Reisert-"

"No," Lisa interrupted, lifting her head to look at Jackson. She didn't want to hear any response from the agent- she didn't care what the woman had to say. The one she wanted to hear from was Jackson, and he was only staring at her, a mix of silent confusion, objection, and relief. "I'm _not_ going back."

"Leese-" Jackson began, his voice wavering ever so slightly, but Lisa shook her head again. She leaned forward, talking only to him now.

"I get it," she insisted. And she did. She knew Jackson was only standing on the other side of the line because he had an obligation to, for her protection. She didn't fault him for that, not at all. She might have if the other side was baseless, but the fact of the matter was that he had solid ground to stand on this time, infinitely more than she did. "But I'm not leaving you," she finished, lifting her good arm and placing a hand on his nape. She wasn't interested in the solid ground.

"You're a fucking idiot, you know that?" Jackson murmured, lowering his head to press his forehead to hers. "You…" He trailed off with a light sigh, barely shaking his head.

"I know," Lisa assured him with a soft smile, even though his eyes were closed. There were no words to describe how absolutely reassuring it felt that he wasn't really fighting her on this. Maybe she was wrong- maybe there _was_ an answer he wanted to hear.

Lisa lifted her face, letting her nose rest against Jackson's, their lips a mere fraction of an inch apart. They were in their own world now- she had all the time she needed to make him understand, to finally say the words that she couldn't say to Ben. Even if he wasn't going to argue, she wanted him to hear her side anyway.

"I _want_ to stay with you," she told him, feeling his brow furrow against hers. "It hasn't been because I don't have options since...the motel, when you took a chance for me. And stopped me." She didn't have to elaborate- she had been well aware that taking that extra evening on the way to Marie's would have been near the bottom on Jackson's wish list if she hadn't needed the break.

Jackson shook his head again, and Lisa smiled- there was a lot of that gesture floating between the two of them in the last ten minutes. "Even if it's not the future I thought I'd have, I still want it," she continued, wishing she could be more romantic. She sounded so...bland, but it was as honest as she could be. And it wasn't particularly romantic, when she thought about it. Romantic implied a lack of reality, looking at things as though life was some ideal place, where no matter how bad it got, they would be together, and all that useless rambling.

No, Lisa was well aware of reality. She knew that next month, next year, or yesterday, Jackson could be dead. She couldn't count on growing old together, a family, or any of the wonderful ideas she had always associated with love. She had learned quite quickly that love wasn't some warm, beautiful thing. It was cold, cruel, brutally honest, and she was pretty sure Freddie Mercury had written a song about it. There was a reason that the color of the most romantic flower was the same shade of red as the blood that had poured from their veins- it was all the same. Loving a man like Jackson had made Lisa feel more alive, and at the same time, more aware of mortality than she had ever been. She had never felt so right in her own skin, never felt so strongly that she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

Yes, she had drifted in and out of sleep in the past two days they spent in that bed, but a lot of time, she hadn't really been sleeping- just thinking. Thinking about how despite the less than ideal circumstances, she had never felt more complete than she did while laying next to him, just existing together. She would rather take her chances with this beautiful mystery than have her imagined future completed to a T with anyone else. She couldn't say _that_ out loud because it would be so easily misinterpreted, making her sound like a swooning teenager, so she offered a simple "I love you."

Jackson sighed, a slight grimace on his features now, and Lisa knew he was going to put up a fight after all. So she waited in silence, giving him that chance. Let him give her any reason he could think up- she was ready to refute it. She was so damn sure of herself now- she was not going to leave him.

"Your family," he reminded her, pulling away slightly, and Lisa bit her lip. She did have a response, but it sounded so _horrible_. But this was it, after all- the moment of truth. Even if it made her a rotten person, she had to speak her piece. Lisa Reisert was dead. She could never go back.

She dropped her gaze, flushing deeply. She could only hope he would understand, but maybe he was one of the few people that could. "If I went back," she began, her voice so soft that Jackson actually leaned in again, letting her rest her forehead against his temple, "it would just be for them. And I want to live for me now...I'm not who they see."

Lisa pulled away so she could make eye contact with Jackson, silently pleading with him to accept this answer. She was reminded suddenly of her conversation with Caleb back in Ben's apartment._ I had to be true to myself first_, he had explained, and it had stuck with her. Of course, he had decided to give up that life a few days later, but that was neither here nor there.

When Jackson still looked skeptical, Lisa knew she had to give him more. It wasn't that he didn't buy what she saying, but she knew that the logic in him couldn't see choosing him over everything else. It was so Romeo and Juliet- of course he wasn't letting himself go for it. There was a part of Lisa that wished he would just back her up because he loved her, but honestly, that wouldn't be Jackson. He was showing her that he loved her by holding himself back.

"Think about what you're asking me to do," she began again, her voice more steady again. This part was easy to admit- she probably should have started with it. It was more rational. "I blew up my dad's _house_, I killed-" She cut herself off, remembering that Jackson told her not to bring up Caleb's dead wife. Now it made sense- Spencer must know about the wedding, and Jackson didn't want her to know Caleb was involved at all. "-people in cold blood, and you're asking me to look my family and...acquaintances in the face, and pretend that I'm a good person and a victim again."

Lisa stomach churned at the idea, and she leaned forward again, taking Jackson's jaw in her hand. "I don't want them to look at me like that," she insisted, frowning. "I don't want to be 'fine' anymore." _You're not good or bad...you just 'are', right?_ "And I won't even be _that _good in Miami, because I'm not Lisa anymore." She didn't want to be fine, goddamn it- she wanted to _live_. "Please don't try to make me...just...don't let me walk out on you."

Jackson exhaled deeply, his eyes showing such a raw vulnerability before they fluttered closed, and his forehead pressed to hers again. Lisa closed her eyes as well, sure she had a good idea of everything that was running through his mind.

It had been a recurring theme ever since she had stormed out of Caleb's house back in Minnesota, holding strong through the Dallas airport, when he had first vocalized the plea, in the hotel when he had admitted his feelings about Caleb's departure from their team, and now, when he had spat that pure rage at his mother, accusing her of walking out on them.

_Leaving_. Jackson had spent too many years having the people he loved abandon him. She had a good idea what her words were doing to him, and maybe it was an inappropriate, but she felt such a relief in her chance to turn down the offer of safely returning to her family. It was solidifying everything she had been trying to tell him- she was with him by _choice_.

_Please, accept it. You **do** deserve happiness, Jackson._

But Jackson still remained silent, seemingly unable or unwilling to fully let go. Lisa understood it- she really did. She was so well aware that she was turning down the safe option to risk everything with him. Hell, if it didn't work out down the line, what would she do then? Keep making a life for her damn self, that's what. She had made her case, but now it was his turn. He had to meet her halfway, allow her to take that chance. It _had_ to be mutual or they would keep coming back to this point, even more_ ad nauseum_ than they already were.

"What do _you_ want?" she murmured, her fingertips grazing the soft patch where his jaw met his neck. "Do you want me to go?" She knew the question was so overly simple, but she had to hear the exact words from him. "Tell me you want me to leave, and I will." She was going to make him say it, and she wouldn't let him skip that direct command. He _had_ to say the words. "But you're not going to talk me out of it."

Jackson shook his head against hers again, finally tilting in for a soft, yet firm kiss. "I don't want to talk you out of it," he admitted, but he felt some obligation to continue. This was just so fucking reckless. "I just want you to be safe, Leese."

Almost everything in him screamed to just shut the hell up and give her what she wanted, what he wanted. He was hearing fucking _everything_ he had wanted to hear, on a personal level, at least. He wanted to cry, wanted to say fuck their injuries and wrap his arms tightly around her, never letting go. He wanted to have this woman at his side, his _partner_. Someone with whom he had to compromise, someone who supported him when he was faltering and would help him come out a better person on the other side. A woman with him by pure choice instead of tied to him through history, blood, or convenience- no _obligations_.

A brand new direction in his story of one let-down after another.

But he couldn't fully let it all go. There was no magic password, no cheat code to just drop the self-loathing he had clung to for so many years, the idea that when it came down to it, he was alone and it was for a reason. That so many of the let-downs he had experienced were his own fault in some way or another.

But there was no way in hell he could send her on her way, not after everything she had said. No. Fucking. Way. Maybe it _was_ purely emotional- and maybe there were no 'maybes' about it- but her words just pulled at him, and he wanted to believe. He wanted to trust, but-

"I don't need to be safe," Lisa replied, her voice dropping again. "I'd rather be alive."

Jackson couldn't keep back a soft chuckle at his expense. He was such a fucking hypocrite. How could he have been so blind? He himself had made that exact choice, opting to stay in his life of murder and deception over the safe option, even when it had meant losing her. Simply put- who the hell was he to begrudge her that same decision? Why the _fuck_ was he fighting her so hard when all she wanted to do was make her own choices? Where did he get off?

He finally nodded, letting go of that stubborn side of himself with a sweet release and bringing up a hand to cover Lisa's. He would have to buy Jamie a new pair of boots for the best advice she could have given him- _you can't logic your way out of love_. It wasn't _supposed_ to make sense. It was just a question of what felt right, for God's sake._ Let it **go**_.

The sound of a flicking lighter caught Jackson's attention, bursting the warmth and reminding him that they had an audience. He reluctantly pulled from Lisa, giving her one more smile and another nod before turning to face his mother. They may have made the decision, but it didn't erase reality. Now they had to fight for it.

"This is all very sweet," Spencer began, and Jackson noted a surprising hint of sincerity behind the sarcasm, "but there is no way that's happening."

Jackson shrugged, not bothered by her response. If she would have agreed, he probably would have been suspicious. "We weren't really _asking_," he explained, as though the words were even necessary. Both parties were well aware this wasn't going to be a simple discussion.

"Do me a favor and _think_," Spencer replied, taking a drag from her cigarette. Jackson did bristle at the implication that he hadn't in the first place- he had hardly ever _stopped_, and it had made the situation so much more complicated than it ever should have been. "This woman is a handicap- you saw what she did in the hotel lobby."

Jackson clenched his jaw, unable to offer any other explanation than 'she's new at this', but Lisa jumped right in, sounding furious.

"You set that up?" she demanded, shifting to sit next to Jackson. "You tried to make me blow it? How the hell-"

"You thought it was a random incident?" the woman asked, staring at both of them as though they were crazy. "Someone just _happened_ to call out your name?"

"I thought it was more believable than the CIA 'randomly' trying to ruin our cover," Jackson replied, sharing the woman's incredulous tone.

Spencer shook her head, chuckling dryly. "We were running surveillance," she explained, actually speaking to Lisa this time. "It was a final test for his director, to confirm that she was trying to get him out of the way. We told Keefe we were additional security for him and reported the specs of his team to Marie, but she requested no additional assistance. When my associate spotted you, I told him to run a test. Oh," she continued, her voice sharpening as she turned back to her son, "what the _hell_ is Caleb doing back in it?"

Jackson scoffed softly, rotating his neck to relax the tense muscles. So much for keeping that secret. "I'm surprised your boy didn't tell you," he replied, avoiding her question. He knew his tone was bitter- it still pissed him off that Ben had gone behind his back on everything.

"Apparently he's not my boy," she shot back, pausing for a moment. "Yet."

Jackson chuckled, accepting the cigarette when she offered again. "He's not interested," he replied for the New Yorker, knowing full well what Spencer meant by that. "And if you asked him, he'd probably tell you to 'eat a dick, respectfully'." The idea of Ben letting himself get recruited was beyond laughable. The man took the CIA about as seriously as he took anything else.

"We'll see," was all she said, and Jackson saw a small smile tug at her lips at his impression of his teammate. The two had actually gotten along quite well when Ben tagged along on prison visits- she had always had a soft spot for him.

"Especially considering the way you handle things," Jackson pointed out, shifting the discussion right back to Spencer's test. "That's the…" He trailed off, taking a short drag- his lungs were nowhere near able to handle anything normal, but this strange exchange of the drug added some sense of civility to the entire thing. "You could have fucked it all up, you know." He had to admit though, he was somewhat impressed. Assuming Spencer had been in the lobby at the time, she had managed to remain unnoticed by the brothers.

His mother shrugged, a cockier smile on her lips. "Better early on than before you let it get too far," she replied, her cold tone matching her expression. She crossed one leg over the other, leaning forward. "When are you going to learn to _think_?" she asked, abruptly switching to French.

Jackson shrugged, caught off guard by the language change for a moment. She was the one who had taught him and Caleb when they were still young. Jackson had picked it up better from the start, and he and his mother had spent countless hours conversing. He used to find it so _fun_, speaking in a language that no one else around them knew.

"I _have_ learned," he insisted, switching right along with her. He did feel like something of an ass for keeping Lisa out of the conversation entirely, but honestly, this was between him and Jacqueline Spencer- the woman he had been named after. He took another drag, passing back the cigarette. "I've changed- I'm not that emotional kid anymore- you just need to accept it."

"It would be easier to accept if you weren't about to fall to pieces when she bats her eyelashes," his mother replied frankly, taking a deeper drag. Jackson could see the disappointment in her eyes, and despite everything he insisted to himself, he hated it.

"It's not like that," he explained, taking a drink from his water, not bothering to get defensive. Appeals would get him nowhere- the woman only spoke hard ice. "Think what you want, though- you don't know _anything_."

Spencer shrugged. "I know that people like us aren't meant to be normal," she replied. "And you know that, too."

Jackson grinned, taking the cigarette back. "That would be incredibly useful if I was trying to be normal," he countered, "and a fucking amateur." Enough pretending that they were people who had any reason to speak to each other. It was far too late for that- it was just business now. He seamlessly switched back to English. "But cut the shit- here's the deal: I can tell you right now what Lisa is going to say if you try to force her back. She'll get a little dramatic and tell you that you're going to have to kill her." He didn't have to look at Lisa- he saw the grin all the same.

"Sounds about right," Spencer muttered, undeterred. "And I take it you will stand in front of her?"

Jackson tilted his head from side to side, pretending to ponder the question. "Of course- it wouldn't be an over the top scene without my going Pocahontas, would it?" he replied sarcastically. "Assuming you have a gun, I'll be dead, you'll shoot her, and the government will be fucked until the good people of America find a new cause."

Jackson took another drag, this time deeper. He was settling back into his role, the cocky manager who smiled at the depravity of his own plans. And smiling he was, the dark little grin he had worn so many times in the past. He had missed the manager- he generally received respect, if not fear. The manager fortified his spine, and he had it together infinitely better than Jackson on his own.

"But that wouldn't be a happy ending, would it?" he continued, handing the cigarette back to his mother. "So instead, how about you get the hell out and let me talk to my associates?"

Spencer shook her head, but this time it was an actual response. "You know I can't do-"

"And you know that's not how this works," Jackson interrupted, his voice steady as brick. "I don't take orders from you." He didn't know who the woman thought she was talking to, but that was the key- he was not her subordinate. Not that she was his, but he was demanding the opportunity to form his own plan with his team, as was procedure, and then they could continue their discussion when he had something to present. "Let me do my damn job without interfering for once."

Spencer raised an eyebrow, but Jackson knew he had her. She had just admitting to interfering from the moment Jackson had arrived back in Miami, and even before that. She owed him. "Five minutes," she snapped, getting to her feet and tossing the cigarette in Jackson's water glass. Jackson nodded- it was plenty of time. He already had an idea, a small piece of penance for a certain Russian. It was a plan he had been forming over the last two days, when he hadn't been obsessing about other things, but now it needed to be modified to include covering Lisa's ass as well. That wouldn't be hard, in theory, but made it somewhat more complicated to present to the New Yorker.

He reached for his phone as his mother left the room, not even bothering to watch her go. He heard felt Lisa moving next to him, and tensed, inhaling sharply as he realized just how little he had been breathing in those past minutes. "Jackson-"

"Don't," he replied, but his voice had no ice in it. "I need to focus- remember?" The truth was that it was killing him to have that raw heart-to-heart only to revert right back to business, but that was exactly why he had to pull it in, let the manager in him take control. "Things are going to get a little harsh, so…" He trailed off, so much less bothered by the idea of Lisa hearing the manager than he had been earlier in the week. It was just part of who he was. "Don't take it personally."

Lisa nodded, watching Jackson quickly dial a number, abruptly switching the phone to speaker mode again. She was _in_. She was finally part of it. Of course she was worried about him, but they had all the time they needed later. For now, it was back to her needing to give him space, and him needing to concentrate on the job.

Jackson handed the phone off to Lisa, leaning back his head and resting it against the wall as he waited for a response. He closed his eyes, bracing himself for what was sure to be an unpleasant conversation.

* * *

"God, this is _bullshit_," Ben snapped, ramming his fist against the passenger window and slumping in his seat, glaring at his phone.

"Then stop playing," Caleb replied, not turning away from the road.

"If I stop, the birds win," Ben muttered, staring at those two stars that taunted him mercilessly. He _wanted_ the third, dammit. He carefully shifted his feet from the blanketed corpse, resting his legs on the dashboard instead. It was too cramped- he was so fucking _cranky_. He tossed the phone onto his lap and crossed his arms, letting his aviators fall over his eyes with a quick jerk of his head as he lolled his head to the side, eyeing Caleb. "When are you going to tell Jack you're back?"

"Are you excited to meet Sasha?" his friend snapped, not-so-subtly telling Ben to fuck off. No one was in a good mood. Jamie might have been, but the woman was passed out in the backseat. Nikita hadn't said more than three words in the last hour, choosing to stare out the window instead. She had never been one to involve herself in petty bickering.

They had been on the road far too long, and Ben was starting to wonder if the Donner Party just lost their shit and the cannibalism was a perk, not the purpose. _Oh, they died on their own and we were starving, my ass._

"About as excited as you are to suck-" Ben's response was interrupted by the chiming on an incoming call over the car speakers, interrupting his iPod. "Hold that thought," he said, leaning forward to hit the 'accept' button. It hadn't taken him long to sync to Cheryl's car, mostly because he had no desire to hold a phone to his ear if or when Jackson chose to call. "Speak if you must."

"Hello to you, too," came Jackson's reply, and Ben raised an eyebrow at just how irritated the man sounded. He and Spencer must have been having one hell of a chat. "You're being headhunted."

"Oh," Ben replied, forcing a lighter tone into his voice as he scratched his jaw. He might be cranky, but he felt that strange urge to lighten the mood, even if he had to drag Jackson kicking and screaming into that amusement. "Spencer wants me?" He paused, glancing over at Caleb, who just shrugged. "I might be game- is she hot?"

"...don't ever ask me that again," Jackson replied after a long pause, and Ben could hear Lisa laughing in the background. He grinned at that downright weird tone in the manager's voice. He wasn't sure how such a simple question would throw the younger man off his game, but Jackson _was_ slowly losing his mind, so...

"She's that ugly, huh?" he asked, resting his head against the window. "Does she at least have big tits?"

All Ben heard for a moment was louder laughter from Lisa, and finally a short "no" from Jackson.

"Not interested, then," Ben replied, yawning. Not that he ever was, but he didn't have to explain- Jackson had only mentioned it for kicks, anyway. "Is that it?"

"I feel a lot less guilty now," he heard Jackson say to Lisa, but he knew the man was still talking to him. He was being baited- it was yet another little routine, and Ben was game. He was so _bored_, much more than he was curious.

"What did you do this time?" he asked, lifting his head to scratch his scalp, making his hair stand on end.

"Remind me-" Jackson began again, already much looser than he had been at the beginning of the call, "-how long has it been since I threw you under a bus?"

"Yeah, it's been a while," Ben replied, yawning again. He could veer the conversation in a much darker area by bringing up his exile, but there wasn't any point to being _that_ spiteful. Maybe later. "What do you want from me?"

"I'm giving you up," Jackson replied, and Ben raised both eyebrows, glancing over at Caleb again, who was matching his surprised expression. _The fuck?_ "To the feds." _The **fuck**?_

"Am I allowed to ask why?" Ben asked, tapping his knuckles against the window. "Or should I shut up and perfect my soap-gripping skills?" He heard Nikita lean forward from behind him, obviously just as confused as the rest of them. He just hoped she would keep her mouth shut for the moment.

"You're not going to prison," Jackson assured him, and Ben shrugged, still unsure of where exactly this conversation was headed. He wasn't sure he liked it, though- Jackson didn't seem to be joking. He remained silent, waiting for the manager to continue. "We need someone to connect Lisa to Keefe, and since you lived in the same building, it's you."

Ben scoffed in disbelief, watching Caleb's grip on the steering wheel tighten. "And how exactly are you going to connect us?" he asked, his patience beginning to wane. "I wasn't aware _I_ was even involved."

"You aren't yet," Jackson replied, "But the Pointe will have you on camera getting the keys from the trainees." _The keys used during the attack_, is what Jackson didn't have to say. Ben set his jaw, bringing his feet back down and sitting upright. "And I'm sure there's a security camera somewhere that caught your car leaving the scene."

"And they'll also have Nik with us," he reminded Jackson, turning to the woman in the backseat. "Or do you want to throw her to the wolves, too?" Nikita's eyes widened, and she shook her head. Ben nodded, silent assuring her that he had no intention to ruin her life like that. If she was identified at _all_, she would have to stay with her husband for protection. Otherwise, Odessa would give her up.

Jackson remained silent, but Ben knew what it meant. It didn't mean that he was just realizing it, or that he was at all thinking of an alternate plan. He knew- he was entirely fucking aware. Ben closed his eyes, biting back a slew of insults. He trusted Jackson more than that. If he was even suggesting such a thing, he had a damn good reason.

"Tell me why," Ben demanded, turning back to the speakers. "Don't summarize- tell me why."

Jackson sighed. "Spencer wants to return Lisa to her family," he explained after pausing a moment, and Ben was surprised not to hear the phone come off of speaker. Jackson knew that Ben was about to say some unkind things, to say the least, and the fact that he didn't seem to care if Lisa heard didn't make the New Yorker feel at all better. He wasn't hiding her from any of it anymore, which just didn't bode well for Ben. "The public isn't buying the story, and-"

Ben wanted to cut in with an _and how the hell is that my problem?_, but he respected the older brother too much for that. He had demanded a full explanation, and he was going to let Jackson get it out before he told him to fuck himself.

"-we need someone connecting her. The feds don't want the official story being that she killed herself because they were wrongly stalking her. Doesn't look good."

"And what sacrifices are _you_ making?" Caleb asked sharply. His tone was both defensive and accusing, but Ben saw the calm in the man's features and knew the emotion was just for show. Caleb was just making his brother say it out loud.

"You're going to show up on some of those tapes, too," Jackson explained. "The one with you, Lisa, and Ben at Camden Brickell, and I assume you all checked out at similar times and got in the same vehicle, right? And that you checked out as me, assuming Lisa would check you both out later?"

"Absolutely not," Caleb snapped, his voice getting harder, and Ben shook his head. Jackson was going to give up John Kline, too? All for _Lisa_? A woman he had known for a few weeks? "You've put years into that alias- this is _asinine_."

Ben nodded shortly, clenching his jaw when Jackson didn't continue. "I said all of it," he snapped. Now that he heard the 'unabridged' version, he knew it was half-bullshit, half-held back. There was no way that keeping Lisa around was Jackson's entire reason- no fucking way. He just couldn't be that stupid. "Otherwise, you're asking me to give up my alias, go on the run, and uproot Nikita and Sasha's lives so you can have Lisa. And that can't be your reason, Jack." He glanced over at Caleb again, noting that the man didn't look any more impressed. "There's no way. Because if that's your reason-"

"You speak Russian fluently," Jackson pointed out quickly, and Ben didn't reply. There was no response to that, and none was wanted, anyway. Jackson wasn't finished. "But you don't know shit about the government or their underground organizations -at least, not enough to identify them- unless you've taken up a new obsession since you left New York. So you tell me, Ben."

And there it was. No, Jackson wasn't an idiot, and Ben knew he had been caught. "I know people," was all he said, pressing his fist against the window. And that was all he planned to say- he wasn't laying down his cards just yet, especially over the phone with witnesses. The things he had done to get that information and the people with whom he had associated weren't exactly the kind the agency liked to work with- in fact, they were the kind the agency would normally take out.

"Exactly," Jackson replied shortly, and Ben paled. There was such an accusation in that one word, delivered as only a Rippner could.

"So you're setting me up because you think I've gone rogue?" he asked calmly, but he couldn't help but feel a slight fear. Between the Spencer business and now this secret association, it didn't look good for him.

"No," the manager replied, his voice still even. "I'm going to assume I know you well enough to know that you're doing it for a reason. But I think connecting you to the Chechens could have an advantage down the line, and I think you know it, too."

Ben nodded, now refusing to meet Caleb's eyes. The younger twin knew all about Ben's dealings with the Russian mob in Miami, about his contact, Khalid, who was actually a Chechen infiltrator. Ben had carefully befriended Khalid during his years in Miami, and it was that man who had verified that the "Russians" Marie was working with were anything but.

But it was such a fucking delicate tightrope Ben walked- associating with the Russians, period, let alone double-crossing _them_ and cozying up to a Chechen mobster. It had required every drop of Ben's silver-tongued cunning, and if any of them figured out who he was and especially who he worked for, the entire plan he had been painstakingly piecing together would unravel in such a graphic way- an underground war, or at least one hell of an execution.

Caleb was the one who had confirmed that Ben couldn't reveal his work to Jackson until the Keefe business had wound down, mostly because the manager had enough on his plate. And Ben had planned to tell Jackson everything once this was over, but it was all coming out at such an inconvenient time. And Ben wasn't about to rat out Caleb as his conspirator.

He was stuck, really- Jackson was going to give him up with or without his agreement, and there was nothing Ben could do about it except flee yet again. But in addition to running, the New Yorker also had a penchant for making demands even when his back was against the wall, and he was willing to use it to his advantage yet again.

"Well, here's what you're going to do for me, then," he began, unclenching and clenching his fist a few times. "If I'm giving up Alexei Kadnikov," he continued, referring to his alias, "as well as Nik and Sasha, then you're going to make sure they get complete government protection- new names, a work history, education history- the fucking works. And if anything happens to them, you're going to turn yourself in."

"Deal," Jackson replied without hesitation. "What else?"

Nikita leaned forward, grabbing Ben's shoulder. "Do I get a say in this?" she asked in Russian, her voice cold and her eyes flashing.

"Not really," he replied, frowning, flipping his sunglasses onto his head. It was so hard to make civilians understand when an offer wasn't optional. It probably made it harder to understand when Jackson had presented the plan to him as though it were anything less than an absolute 'this is how it is'. "I'll keep you safe, though," he swore, "and you already knew leaving Ilia was going to get you kicked out of Brighton."

He winced when Nikita punched him hard in the shoulder. "It's not like I meant for any of this when I asked for help," he insisted, turning as best he could to face the angry woman. "They'll give you a good start on a new life, and you don't have to ever see me again if you don't want to."

"_Cocksucker_," Nikita spat, and Ben frowned. She only called him that when she truly hated him. But Jesus, there wasn't much he could do about it. If there was any other way, he would have suggested it by now. Jackson wasn't giving him a choice. "I'm part of it, then," she insisted, reverting back to English, and that surprised Ben, to say the least. "I'm not your collateral damage- I'm helping you take these assholes down."

Ben raised an eyebrow, but Nikita just leaned closer to him, now gripping his shoulder tightly. "I'm done being told where to go and what to do by you _russkiye_," she told him, her voice bitter. "I can shoot, I know computers better than you," she reminded him, and motioned toward the car speakers with her head, "and I know Russian. Does your big boss?"

Ben couldn't keep back a grin, turning to face the front as he lit a cigarette. He had often loved how brazen the woman could be. He couldn't help but wonder if it had been her plan all along, in some part, at least. He had been skeptical when she had told him about school- a straight life never suited the criminal in her.

"Great," Jackson replied simply, obviously thrown off by her response, but just as obviously not about to turn down skilled assistance, and then repeated his previous question. "What else?"

Ben turned to Caleb, who simply nodded, silently letting him know to go ahead with the plan they had discussed on the way to Texas. He glanced over his shoulder again, about to tell Nikita to wake up Jamie, but the woman was already staring at him. "Well, you're going to be director," he began, not breaking eye contact with the lead. He simply watched her bemused expression, knowing he was about to figuratively slap her in the face.

Jackson hesitated. "Maybe," he replied, and Ben gave Jamie a final apologetic smile.

"It wasn't a question," he explained, turning to face the front again. And it wasn't- the tone was a formality. "You're going to take over as director, and when you do, I'm your second." Normally, he might not be so bold at such a time, but he was acting on Caleb's advice: _give him a demand, not a request._

The men knew it would make Jackson squirm, but when it came down to it, he would respect it, even if he didn't agree immediately. So Ben was prepared for the "You've got to be fucking kidding me" that came in response.

"Not at all," he replied, taking a deep drag. This part wasn't optional- there was absolutely no one else in the world he would trust with his 'baby' than the Rippners. If Jackson remained a mere manager, he would still have to get approval before he could take any action on Ben's information, and that opened the entire thing to meddling.

"Excuse me?" Jamie snapped, but Ben didn't turn around. He knew he was out of line in her eyes, but this was partially how it had to be and partially how he wanted it. He needed the final go ahead on his plan to be Jackson's, and he sure as hell wasn't taking a place behind Jamie. Not because he had absolutely anything against the woman- she was a great lead, from everything he had heard- but because he knew he had risen beyond third place. Jackson was going places, and Ben was going right with him- he had _earned_ this opportunity.

"I'm your second, or I disappear and take everything I know with me." He turned to Caleb, a grimace on his face. He just wasn't used to talking to Jackson like this, especially threatening him, but if it accomplished his goal, he would play whatever he had to play. It was a valid threat, he knew. The agency might have incredible resources, but Ben just knew the underworld better.

"What the fuck-" Jamie began, but Jackson cut her off quickly, apparently having zero interest in listening to them fight it out.

"I'll think about it," he replied, and Ben knew he had gotten what he wanted. If Jackson was going to refuse, he would refuse. His lack of commitment was to save face, to avoid jumping entirely into a whiplash decision, just as Ben's threat gave him a chance to claim his back was against the wall, if that was what he wanted. Or maybe it did back him into a wall- it all amounted to the same thing.

"Jackson-" Jamie began again, but Ben heard another woman's voice in the background of the incoming phone call, and knew Jackson was about to hang up on them. It was definitely Spencer.

"Let me know when it's done," Jackson said quickly, just has Ben had predicted, and the line went dead.

Caleb reached over and snatched the cigarette from Ben's fingers, and for a moment, the car was silent, the occupants seemingly giving themselves a moment to absorb everything that had just happened.

"How the hell could you do that to me?" Jamie snapped, punching Ben in that same shoulder. Ben scoffed, smiling sadly as he lit a new cigarette. There were so many answers he wanted to give, but they were all petty and would cause so much more damage than it was worth.

"I didn't do shit to you," he replied calmly, and Caleb took a drag, keeping his eyes on the road. It was strange, but he was always fascinated by the different ways people expressed their anger, and Jamie and Ben were particularly interesting. Jamie was a screamer, a total Inglewood girl, and Ben was cool, collected Brooklyn. The louder she got, the more confidently steady he was, but neither pulled their punches.

"You didn't do shit to me?" Jamie paraphrased, "I've taken point for him for four fucking years and you just come in-"

"I didn't 'just come in' anywhere," Ben replied, talking right over- under?- her. "You know damn well I would have been his second, but you and I couldn't work together, so I left, but I-"

"Exactly! You left and he's changed. You have no right-"

"-am not sitting on the sidelines anymore," Ben continued, taking a drag of his cigarette. "I've put in too much work on this, and-"

"And I haven't?" she snapped. "It's _my_ fucking job, and you stole it from-"

"I couldn't have stolen it, Jaylin," Ben reminded her, taking a drink of his Coke. "If Jack didn't want me, he would have told me to fuck off, and you know it. Just take a second, and think about it instead of-"

Caleb's eyes widened slightly. She was _not_ going to take that one well. "Jamie, you know he's going to make-"

"Oh, fucking of course you defend him," Jamie interrupted, turning on him. "Of _course_, because you two are totally-"

"Don't finish that sentence," Ben snapped, turning to look at the woman, and Caleb shook his head. He knew exactly what the younger woman was getting at- it was the same shit, different day- if he or Ben defended the other, they were told something along the lines of 'why don't you fuck and get it over with?' It was irritating, but it was life, and they were used to it.

"You're going to be the manager of his team," Caleb reminded her quickly, getting the words in before she could retort. He did understand where the woman was coming from. She was obviously devoted to Jackson, and she was likely feeling completely betrayed, by all three of them now. In a way, she was, but at the same time, she wasn't. "And Marie doesn't have a second, so it's not as though there was a position to fill."

"But it's bullshit," Jamie insisted, but something in her tone had changed. She wasn't yelling at either of them now- she was venting to them, despite traces of the same accusation. "You both left us, and I stayed, but he's throwing me out because you're back."

Ben scoffed again, obviously taking issue with the word 'left', as he fucking should, but Caleb knew he wasn't going to say anything about it. The man was usually good at not saying something he would regret- he was so incredibly in control of his words. For his part, Caleb just frowned- the woman could be so insecure sometimes, and he had never figured out exactly how to make her realize that she took it all too personally.

He took a final drag from the cigarette, tossing it out the window. If Ben wasn't going to stand up for himself, Caleb wasn't going to get involved any more than he already had, mostly because he and Jamie had never connected nearly as well as she and Ben or she and Jackson had- he just didn't know how to talk to her sometimes.

There was no point in explaining that this promotion would benefit both of them. Without it, he knew there would be conflict in who was promoted to manager after Jackson became director. The job should naturally be Jamie's, but back around the time Jackson was originally being promoted to manager, every person on the team had assumed that Ben would be his lead- he just had an edge that the woman didn't possess.

Ben riled Jackson, but also got through to him like few could. Jamie was easier to work with- she had always gotten along beautifully with his brother. She hadn't ever been much of a challenge to Jackson, and sometimes, more often than not, really, the inability to meet perfectly was necessary. And Caleb had no way of knowing for sure, but he had a hunch that the methodical machine of a man Jackson had become was a result of that lack of friction. Simply put- Jackson always got his way, and he lost his spark. It wasn't Jamie's fault- they had all done their part, and she had picked up the pieces as best she could. He couldn't fault her in the least.

And furthermore, she _should_ be manager over Ben, in Caleb's opinion. The man just wasn't comfortable leading- he was too prone to wanting to handle things himself, to be at the forefront of the problem. Ben had been correct when he had said he needed to be needed, but he definitely didn't want the responsibility. He never had. Having Jackson need him while still not having to take care of a team was a perfect place for him. The man was a born second-in-command, as much of a backhanded compliment as that may be.

And the bottom line was that Ben owed the woman nothing, as crude as it was. And he certainly shouldn't be expected to give up his dream position out of some kind of loyalty, especially when Jamie was better where she was.

"Are you finished?" Nikita asked from the backseat, and Caleb grinned faintly. Another calm, blunt one. He had to admit, Ben had eclectic tastes- the women seemed so different from each other, but it made sense, he supposed. Ben had quite the varying personality, and the opposites in the back seat both managed to make sense, although in Caleb's opinion, neither were right for him. "What are we going to do about Sasha?"

Caleb adjusted his sunglasses, barely listening to the two making their plans. He did hear Ben mention Minnesota, but it still didn't particularly pull him in. He knew that Ben was well aware he could bring his daughter to Minnesota if he wanted, so his permission wasn't required. Instead, he paid more attention to Ben's changing demeanor, how serious he was when he spoke to the Russian woman.

He knew that he was probably over-thinking before knowing all the facts, and should drop it, but as long as he never said what was on his mind, what did it hurt? And as usual, he enjoyed the distraction. As far as he could see, Ben needed some kind of blend of the two women, and then some. He needed Nikita's calm intelligence, and her incredible dedication and determination, but he also needed the fire, passion, and playfulness that Jamie brought, even if that combination seemed impossible.

Ben turned around again and stared at the road, having finished the conversation with Nikita. It hadn't been nearly as complex as he had expected- everyone was on board. Nikita had called Sasha, and Jamie had called Drake, one of Jackson's low levels. Nikita told Sasha meet up with Drake on her way to school, and Drake would bring her to Minnesota. They were going to drive, which accomplished getting the girl out of New York early, but not getting her to Minnesota before anyone was there to meet her. It was all nicely packaged with a pretty little bow- except for the whole 'meeting his daughter after fourteen years of _nothing_', but that was a panic attack better left for later.

He briefly glanced over at Caleb, who was obviously in his own world again. The man drifted in and out of reality so damn easily sometimes, and there were moments Ben would give his entire computer system to know what was going on in that ever-shifting mind. "What are you thinking?" he asked, deciding to go the straight route this time. He might get thirty percent of the story, but he was too tired to weave in and out of the intricacies of Caleb's thoughts.

"That we're going to die," Caleb replied flatly, lighting another cigarette. "I just hope we can get her first." Ben nodded. He really had to agree on that- it wasn't looking good for them.

"Pull over," he said softly, checking his phone screen. They would be there in about half an hour, and at some point Caleb and he had to trade places again. It was as good a time as any.

Caleb did so, and Ben limped his way to the driver's seat, bracing his weight on the car as he moved. When the two were situated again, Ben was surprised when Caleb handed his cigarette to him and began stripping down. "I know we could all be dead tomorrow, but there's witnesses, man," he joked, lamely referring to the popular apocalyptic pick up line, but his smile faded when he saw Caleb pulling on his old bloody clothes.

"I want her to see them," the younger twin replied simply, throwing his t-shirt over his head, and Ben nodded gravely. If they were right, which they probably were, Marie had sent her brother to his death just to throw them off-track. They might as well let her squirm a bit first, before they were all killed by whomever waited at the ranch. Ben would actually be offended and damn disappointed if it was just Marie at this point.

"So we're going to storm the place?" Jamie asked skeptically, leaning forward again. "We're not even going to pretend it's normal?" Ben shook his head, not starting the car.

"Don't worry- nothing that dramatic," he replied, taking a drag of Caleb's cigarette before handing it back to him. "You and Cal go in, and I'll come in through the garage, same as before."

"And me," Nikita reminded him, and Ben reluctantly nodded again. The idea of involving her at this level didn't sit well with him, but it was her life to risk. He didn't do protection, especially when every able shooter was needed. If she wanted to throw in her hat, he wasn't going to refuse. He was going to keep her hiding in that goddamn car unless she was absolutely necessary, though.

"But Cal's right," he added, turning in his seat to better see all three. "There's a fucking good chance we won't make it, so don't anyone start thinking otherwise. We just have to take her out, no matter what. So if anyone isn't feeling particularly self-sacrificing, feel free to get out. Hitchhiking might still be legal in this shithole."

The four sat in silence, and Ben chewed his lower lip, waiting for the completely justified surrender from any of them. He wasn't one for wishful thinking or hypothetical daydreams, but if he could make one wish, it would be a better plan. There was still the chance that they were wrong, but in his gut, Ben knew it was a suicide mission. Some of them or one of them might make it out, but all four? How could they pull off the impossible twice in one week? Three times, if he counted how outmatched they were in those cars with Robert.

But no one said a word, and as Ben scanned their faces, he noted for the hundredth time in his life that he wasn't in a movie. There was never so much as a glimpse of strong determination, optimism, whatever it was called in his teammates' faces. Maybe 'delusion' was the best word- with some epic, sweeping orchestrated score and a fierce battle cry or some inspiring shit like that. But it had never come- not once.

Instead, he saw nothing in Caleb and Jamie's faces. This was what they had been trained- hell, programmed- to do. The directive came first, their lives, second. None of what he had said made the slightest impact on them, because each of them, Ben included, had always kept in the back of their minds that chances were all too high that they wouldn't live to see thirty. Ben wasn't sure how he had made it to that magical third decade himself, but it was what it was.

It had to end sometime, so it might as well end with him doing something instead of joining the walking dead who accepted the shitty cards that were dealt. He couldn't even get the adrenaline high anymore- prepping himself for death each time it was a possibility had just become too exhausting over the years. Even his speech, as small as it was, was a formality.

"Well, at least we had some fun, right?" he murmured, finally turning on the car and stepping on the gas, wasting no more time as they headed toward yet another possible fanfare-less final destination.


	43. Waiting for the End

**Well, this is it! Three and a half years later, I've finished my first piece of fanfiction. It's been one hell of a ride, ranging from the hilarious to the downright insane (and that's just the reviewers) Interacting with the small handful of loyal reviewers has been mostly incredible.**

**I want to say a quick thanks to _all_ of my reviewers, but especially the following:**

**PirateGyrl**, who gave some of the most helpful feedback I've ever received writing a story and who gave me plenty of plot and character ideas.

**Eva**, my favorite anonymous reviewer, who never hesitated to let me know what she thought about each chapter and side story since she joined the story back around chapter 30. My resident CxL fan. Love you, girl!

**Perhaps-A-Star, BW4eva, Jesscah, **and** KnoKnayme**, my reviewers who popped in and out at various points throughout the story, giving me so much encouragement.

**MademoiselleGF**, who made me a beautiful banner than I so wish I could somehow post on this story. Get on it, ff . net! (and I'm still sorry that I didn't kill Lisa for you...I was tempted to delete the chapters since then and re-write it all, but I just couldn't figure out Jackson's reactions well enough to do the idea justice!)

**Clavis Salomonis**, who created the fanart that serves as the main image for this story.

**She Who Shines** and **Amely Shine**, both of whom served as excellent betas (and friends).

**And a handful of others who were constant sources of support at times:**  
Medisha  
Brunette Bulma  
ThisIsChickaOnFFdotNet  
I Am the Batman Dag Nab It  
son-of-puji  
EmpireX  
EmpireAndAll  
waitingfortoday  
pinky's creature feature  
Astrianne  
CharliRenee123

**I'm not going to lie, going through all those reviews to make sure I didn't miss anyone made me tear up a bit. I don't know if most of you stopped reviewing because you lost interest in the story between the long updates, I ruined it for you somehow, or life just took over, but each one of you made my day at some point over the years, so thanks so much for that. :)**

**I honestly don't know if I'll ever write a sequel for this story. I do have ideas, but as made obvious by the long list of reviewers compared to the handful who still leave feedback, interest in the story has really faded. As you might have been able to tell from the tangle of complex plot-lines (probably too complex at times) and the research put into some of these details, I put a lot of work into my stories, and I don't want to put it out there if people aren't interested. It's up to you guys, I guess.**

**Le Fin:**

* * *

**Chapter 42: Waiting for the End**

"Ben will be the connection," Jackson relayed to Spencer, setting the phone down on the nightstand and trying to push back the lingering emotions from that phone call. He already knew he was going to accept Ben's offer, but he would have to have a long talk with Jamie- he owed her a full explanation. He could only imagine how backstabbed she was feeling by what had just happened, and it was the last thing he wanted for her.

"How so?" his mother asked, intrigued. She took her place on the opposite bed again, crossing one leg over the other.

"He and I lived in the same building," Lisa spoke up, and Jackson let her take the reins for the moment. She would know more about that connection, after all. "We did laundry together sometimes, and I...mentioned him to Cynthia once or twice." Jackson turned his head at her sudden meekness, and saw a small blush on her cheeks. He wanted to laugh at her embarrassment- she had obviously had a thing for his associate at one point. It didn't bother Jackson, though- he was confident that she would have said _something_ if she still had any kind of feelings for him.

"And he bought the gasoline that we used to burn down Dad's house, so you can- wait," she turned to Jackson, cutting herself off. "Are we saying he forced me into it, or am I a terrorist in our story?"

"Forced," Jackson assured her before Spencer could cut in. "They're the ones who killed the feds and your dad, and kidnapped you, then killed you." He looked at Spencer. "The trainees checked in under stolen identities, so we don't have to worry about them. We used Ben's car to get away, so let's have it conveniently show up on some security camera somewhere," he continued, even though he was still sure it had been too dark for any cameras to pick up the plates."

"So you can get him buying the gas on security cameras, right? I also stayed at his apartment a few nights this week," Lisa added, "And that will be on camera, so the press can still have their sexy rape story- I know I didn't exactly look comfortable."

"Why would you want to give up Ben's alias?" Spencer finally asked, looking impressed by the plan that was being presented, but still skeptical.

"I think we need to give him another alias," Jackson began, knowing this was a question only he could answer. "Something Chechen. If we connect him to the Keefe attack, as well as Priliva," he continued, referring to the group they were supposed to take out next, "then we essentially link him to Priliva and they're not going to refute it- why would they?"

"They'll want to claim a successful terrorist," Spencer murmured, nodding. Jackson knew she would like that one. The CIA had a history of blaming their own attacks and assassinations on convenient terrorist cells, who were only too happy to take credit.

"Exactly," Jackson replied. "We'll go through Marie's records and find out who her informants are. When the time is right, we turn one of them over to the Politsiya. Ben will surrender in the States, get arrested, and extradited. We'll make some kind of deal with the government or whomever- they give Ben a criminal record in Russia and imprison him with the informant, and we'll promise to hand over the intelligence Ben gets from him- after we've used it to find more members of Priliva," he added quickly when Spencer's face changed to distaste.

"The Russians might bite, but do you think Ben will go for this?" she asked, frowning. "Russian prison isn't the best vacation spot, especially for a Chechen terrorist. And you think he could get anything from this informant?"

"If anyone could, it's him," Jackson replied. Ben was the best at making someone into his best friend and getting absolutely whatever they wanted from him. "I assume they haven't been exactly forthcoming with information about their infrastructure, so it's the only way to work up to the top. This guy names names, we work those individuals, they name names, and so on. Just like Alnsur," he added, referring to the Iraqi weapons dealers his team had taken out in almost that same manner years ago.

"How will you keep the Russians from getting Ben's intelligence and then disposing of him when he's not needed?" Spencer asked, lighting a cigarette.

Jackson shrugged. "We'll use a code," he replied simply, "and make it clear that if anything happens to him, the information will somehow disappear and they can go back to hunting down Priliva themselves." It wasn't his first time pulling a stunt like this, but it was his first time doing so in Russia. He was still confident in the plan, though- if history taught him anything about relations with Russia, it was that mutually assured destruction was a language they spoke well. Both sides would take their own risks and assume the other held up their end of the bargain- if they didn't, neither won.

Spencer was silent for a moment, thoughtfully smoking her cigarette. Jackson just waited. He was used to this, having to present his case and wait for the go-ahead. It was something he was actually looking forward to not having to put up with as much once he became director, because he knew his plans would work just fine. The problems never came from the plan. They came from outside meddling, the other players unable to resist sticking in their hand because of pride.

"Look," he finally said when Spencer remained silent, cutting through the tension with his impatience. "It's a sound plan, and as long as you and your agency backs off until or unless I need you, it will work. Just let us do our damn jobs, or do it yourself."

Spencer smiled, the first genuine smile since she had stepped foot back into Jackson's life, and Jackson wondered if she had been waiting for that exact reaction, trying to see if he did indeed have a spine. "It's your show, kid."

* * *

Caleb nodded vaguely, staring at the seemingly innocuous building. "If we tell you to leave, you go," he muttered, reaching for the door handle. "You're the important one here."

"Sure," Ben replied, not sure whether or not he was actually agreeing. Yes, if they were talking about a purely pragmatic level, things would be easier for Jackson if Ben survived. But Ben had already instructed Jeff to go through his apartment and gather every computer, flash drive, and hard drive Ben had stored, including Robert's own computer that Ben had stolen. Ben had kept meticulous track of every piece of intelligence he had been gathering, and he had also given Jeff the decryption keys, along with Robert's passwords. The information was all Jackson really needed to begin taking down the Chechens.

On a personal level, though, of course Jackson would prefer that if anyone survived, it was Caleb, and so Ben couldn't fully commit to abandoning the younger twin.

"Tell Biggie and Tupac I love them," Caleb joked, flashing Ben a confident grin before exiting the car, and Ben chuckled, briefly glancing at Jamie as she followed Caleb before pulling away. He had all but forgotten about that line, even though it had originally come from his own mouth, the effects of anesthesia on his 24-year-old self about to undergo a tonsillectomy, begging Caleb to get a message to his two beta fish should anything go wrong. It had become Caleb's favorite parting line on a job, and for now, it had successfully broken some of the tension.

"See you in Hell, Cal," he muttered, dialing the two access codes and driving into the garage. He heard Caleb's soft chuckle through his earpiece, and grinned again. At least the equipment was still working, and it beat 'testing, 1, 2, test'. He drove slowly, scanning the empty first garage as he drove down the concrete slope to the real garage.

"Stay down," he murmured to Nikita, who was in the backseat, pressed down against the floorboard. She had already been told not to move until Ben said otherwise, but reminding her again helped preserve some of his sanity. The idea of getting them both killed and leaving Sasha stranding in Minnesota as an orphan was proving to be a difficult image to purge from his mind.

"Cal, I have a welcome party," he announced as his gaze rested on a group of individuals near the exit into the main house. He didn't recognize them, but they certainly looked official. "Three suits, likely armed. Probably government, agency unknown." He didn't receive a response, and didn't expect one. If Caleb was in the main house, he couldn't very well start replying to Ben. Ben wasn't looking for a command- he was merely passing on the information.

He spotted what looked like the perfect parking spot and decided to label it luck, not a trap. He pulled in, happily noting that the driver's side was opposite the group of officials, and there was another car between them. It gave him some cover, and more options- now he just needed the plan.

* * *

Caleb glanced over at Jamie, but said nothing. They already had company of their own, having met a man in a suit in Marie's sitting room, a complete all-American who looked straight out of the Marines- tall, sinewy, with a square jaw and buzzed brown hair. He smirked knowingly when the man eyed his bloody jeans and up to his splattered chest.

"You should see the other guy," he remarked, warily watching the man approach him, and chuckled dryly. "Oh come on," he continued at the his lack of reaction, "Someone's seen _In the Line of Fire_ too many times." This type of mocking wasn't Caleb's style, but it enabled him to let Ben know he was seeing one official so far.

"Come on, Rippner," the man said, approaching him carefully. "Hand over your weapons." Caleb hesitated. Marie had to be watching this exchange, and if he couldn't even get through the door, it was pointless. But there was also no way in hell they were going ahead unarmed. On top of that, there was something vaguely familiar about the man's voice, but Caleb couldn't place it.

"Or?" he asked, backing up slightly, moving closer to Jamie.

"There's one over here, too," the lead murmured, and Caleb frowned, quickly scanning their possible options. Hand over the weapons and have nothing, be sitting ducks, or not hand them over and likely be killed on the spot.

"Or you don't get through the door," the man replied, and Caleb noticed an odd air about him. The man's eyes stared intently into his, and each word was deliberate, as though he was conveying a hidden message that Caleb couldn't even begin to decipher. "And you-" he began again, speaking to Jamie, "-give yours to my partner."

"Who _are_ you?" Caleb finally asked, frowning. The situation was just strange. Plus, it would be nice to know if they were dealing with some kind of government agency, if these people were part of the agency itself, or some other group of terrorists, assassins, et cetera.

He was confused even more by the man's smile, which almost seemed relieved. Caleb briefly wondered if Jackson was supposed to know who the guy was, but then, that wouldn't explain why the question was met with relief instead of confusion.

The man held open his badge, and it finally clicked in Caleb's brain. Jonathan Moore from the Federal Protection Service. _DHS_. Caleb gave a barely perceptible nod- Jackson's contact in DHS was named Jonathan, and Caleb himself had talked to him after the Keefe attack. He seemed to be the same man, but how the hell? Not only was the guy supposed to be in hiding, he was some kind of administrative employee, not fucking _FPS_. Not a cop.

Caleb stared at Jonathan for one more moment, nodding reluctantly when he saw the knowing look in the man's eyes. He hadn't expected Caleb to recognize him, because Jackson had never met him, either. The badge was the key.

"Whatever you say, Jon- can I call you Jon?" Caleb replied, hoping Ben would understand the vague message. He lazily turned around and interlaced his hands behind his head, allowing the officer to grip his hands and begin to pat him down. "We might as well skip the formalities since you're feeling me up without buying me dinner first."

He mouthed a quick 'trust me' to Jamie, who was staring at him as though he had lost his mind. The woman hesitantly mimicked Caleb's actions, allowing Jonathan's partner to search her.

Caleb was somewhat impressed by the show the officers put on for the cameras, Jonathan's hands quickly but thoroughly roaming down Caleb's entire body, leaving no inch untouched. He removed the Colt tucked into Caleb's belt, but left the spare magazines and Benchmade where they were. It was somewhat uncomfortable, of course, and Caleb was tempted to tell the man he was enjoying himself a little too much, but it looked real, which was the important part.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he heard Jamie mutter as the two assassins were finally released.

"Allies," Caleb whispered in her ear, knowing that Jonathan and his partner were likely wearing earpieces themselves- he didn't want anyone listening in to pick up on the conversation in case the people on the other side of the door weren't so friendly.

* * *

"And the others?" Ben asked, narrowing his eyes as he watched the three officials, who had pulled out their guns.

"No idea," came the reply, and Ben nodded.

"I guess we'll find out," he said, moving his lips as little as possible and moving his head for good measure- he was supposed to be alone in the car after all.

"What's the plan?" Nikita asked, thankfully catching on quickly, and Ben ran a hand through his hair.

"Get the guns," he replied, as though that answered the question. "I'm going to get my crutches and you get out- stay the fuck down, and if you think it's necessary, shoot them."

"What if I shoot you?" she asked, and Ben shrugged, climbing out of the car.

"I give up," he called out to the men, bracing his weight on the hood of the car. "Let me get my crutches, though- unless you've got issues shooting a cripple." He wasn't surprised to get no verbal response, or to see the men train their guns more intently on him. Crutches would serve their purpose better, since he couldn't very well go for a quick gun grab with his arms preoccupied. But, they also had no way of knowing he wasn't about to pull something else from the backseat. Ben knew the game well.

"If you don't kill me, they will," he muttered, reaching for his crutches and letting Nikita crawl under him and onto the ground. "And it seems more fitting that you do it yourself." In all honesty, Ben wasn't completely convinced their roles shouldn't be reversed since he was a better shot, but he also didn't want her within arm's reach of three officials when the shit hit the fan. At least under the car, she was much more protected.

Ben sobered up, and began hobbling toward the men. "So, what's the deal here?" he asked, deliberately taking his time and making himself seem much more uncoordinated than he was. He knew he looked ridiculous, and the idea of him being a threat probably seemed comical at the moment. "Are you bringing us in for Keefe?" He finally made it to the men, and grinned at the one who seemed to be in charge. "Or are we worth more dead than alive?"

He studied the man carefully, but didn't see anything in his eyes other than the official dead stare, and saw the same in the other two faces. If these guys were allies, they did a damn good job hiding it.

"It depends," the leader replied, and Ben watched them lower their guns. They did keep them at the ready, so it wasn't much of a relief. "If you're Alexei Kadnikov, a.k.a. Alex Dean, a.k.a. Benjamin Parker, a.k.a. Alexander Dubnikov, then you have information we need. If you're a nobody, then we don't have a use for you."

It was inappropriate, but Ben couldn't help but grin at hearing all of his aliases- the main aliases, anyway- listed together. _One of these things is not like the other..._ Them knowing his birth name wasn't amusing in the least, and he did wonder how they knew it when he was fairly sure Marie didn't, but there wasn't much point in asking.

"Then I am that man of many names," he replied, bowing awkwardly on his crutches. He wasn't entirely sure what to make of it still. They could either be using the song and dance as an excuse to keep him alive, or actually be about to arrest him. But he saw the flash of the cuffs as one of the men approached, and wasn't about to assume it was safe. He needed an actual sign.

"Back up," he said firmly, locking eyes with the leader again. "I never said I was willing to talk."

The man smiled softly, and Ben wondered if he was about to hear that infamous line in real life. _We have ways of making you talk._ There was _nothing_ friendly in that smile.

"What's with the crutches, anyway?" the man asked, his voice just not casual enough for the seemingly innocent question, and Ben raised an eyebrow. Interesting diversion of topics.

"It was a present from one of your dead DepSec's boys," he replied flatly, starting to get annoyed. He needed a sign one way or another so he could either have Nikita kill these motherfuckers or they could be on their way to help Caleb and Jamie.

The sign came without hesitation, courtesy of another bullet in Ben's leg, and the New Yorker hit the concrete ground. _Fucking **Christ**, Norman Stansfield_! Fortunately, Nikita didn't hesitate to follow his orders, and before Ben had time to actually react beyond his internal bitching, the sound of more gunfire exploded in the garage, the explosions bouncing from wall to wall and giving the impression of an all-out war.

Ben curled into an almost fetal position when another bullet ripped through that same leg, and within seconds, the three men were on the ground with him, every one of them having wounds to match his, courtesy of the Russian woman. He let out another cry of agony when one of the men landed on his already injured leg, and twisted away from the heavy weight.

He saw another man attempt to return fire on Nikita. He could only hope that she was well-hidden enough that they couldn't spot her in the confusion, and that she would know to stop shooting now that they were a writhing, pained mass of limbs. "_Stay the fuck down,_" he hissed through clenched teeth as he pushed through the pain, reaching in his boot and pulling out a KA-BAR. The last thing he needed now was her coming to help and opening herself as a target. He maneuvered his other hand, grabbing the Colt from his jeans and quickly rolled himself onto his knees. He had this under control now.

* * *

Caleb allowed himself to be lead down the passageway, instinctively keeping an eye out for possible cover, additional rooms, and anything else that might be useful. Him never having been in this place was just one more disadvantage, and made it even more difficult to come up with a solid game plan. And despite the fact that he did believe Jonathan and his partner were on the assassins' side, he still felt so fucking vulnerable without his gun. It wasn't that he was waiting for betrayal, but the idea that he was useless if things got difficult just made him itch.

He barely listened to Ben's conversation with the unknown agents, letting the words absorb themselves in his subconscious instead of allowing them to distract him. He knew he would pick up on anything important, so he wasn't worried. Marie's place was just too over-the-top for Caleb's liking. It was straight out of a spy novel, and he was finding it irritating.

Before long, Caleb found himself standing in front of the woman he hadn't seen in almost five years, and wasn't surprised to find that he hadn't missed her. "There's my favorite traitor," she greeted, smiling warmly. Almost instantly, her smile faded, and the woman paled, her eyes scanning Caleb's figure.

Caleb just smiled faintly, knowing no words were necessary. He didn't stop staring at her, knowing that his silent taunt was more than enough. He used his well-trained peripheral vision instead, seeing without looking that there were five more officers standing with her. The woman had to know her brother was dead, but she obviously hadn't expected to have her face rubbed in it.

Marie was the first to pull out her gun, pointing it directly in his face, but Caleb didn't even flinch. He didn't believe for a moment anymore that she had gone through all of this just to shoot him as he walked through the door. No, there was something she wanted.

"Isn't this supposed the part where you tell me we need to talk?" he asked flatly, trying to feel as relaxed as he managed to appear. "Or are we skipping it?" This was his least favorite part of any job- the stand-off. It could be seconds, minutes, or even hours, but that fucking purgatory before all hell broke lose- or didn't- was excruciating, infinitely worse than the boredom before a job that Lisa had complained about days prior.

It was the moment when every word, every gesture, every minute nuance could determine the outcome, and it tried every shred of Caleb's patience.

Every muscle in his body twitched imperceptibly, but Caleb felt it all the same. His brain frantically attempted to recap every bit of information he had gathered in an effort to make sure for the thousandth time that there wasn't a possible scenario he had overlooked, trying to predict the future that was already so near, Caleb could taste it.

Marie raised an eyebrow, something in Caleb's statement or demeanor causing her previous rage to suck right back in, a calm mask instantly upon her face. But before Caleb could fully assess the sudden attitude change, Marie's arm shifted to the left and a single gunshot pierced the deafening silence. Almost simultaneously, Caleb heard the same noise in his earpiece, and knew that it was going down in the garage.

As painful as the purgatory could be, it never faded gradually. It was a sharp sucker-punch of an atmosphere change, straight from the agonizing over-analysis to a mental vacuum that left no room for anything other than quick reactions. And so, Caleb didn't have time to turn around and see if he was right, didn't even have time to wonder if Jamie had actually been shot down right next to him in cold blood. He only had time to reach for Jonathan, trying to grab the man's gun from its holster.

The advantage almost always came down to the person who was already armed, and this time was no exception. Caleb heard the primal cry from his own lips out as a searing pain tore through his forearm, and the momentary distraction left him unable to determine whether the erupting gunfire was in that very room or just invading his senses through the earpiece. He _was_ able to register the wall of force slamming into him, sending him crashing through a nearby door and straight to the ground, his body crushed between the hard surface and the heavy weight falling on top of him.

Jonathan was already moving, though, grabbing Caleb's hoodie and yanking him right along. Caleb was half-dragged and half-scrambling on his own away from the now-open doorway, taking cover behind the wall instead. He moved as far away from the door as possible, laying prone and praying that the walls were concrete instead of some shitty wood and drywall structure.

He moved to brace himself on his forearm, the burning stab of pain and subsequent collapse back onto his chest a cruel reminder that he had been shot. He quickly scanned the room- it was an office, but Caleb couldn't see any of the security screens on the computer. He had no way of knowing what those Marie and the agents were doing, and no way of knowing if there were more on the way. All he heard in his earpiece were grunts, pained groans, and death rattles. They were _fucked_. "Lex, if you're-" Caleb's voice wavered, and his lips twitched uselessly, unable to form the words 'still alive', "-you need to get the hell out. Now."

* * *

Ben pulled himself to his feet with a determined groan, thanking the non-existent gods that 'Stan' had shot him in his already wounded leg, and the bullet from Nikita wasn't too far away from either of them. One swiss cheese leg was better than two. "Like _hell_," he managed, taking one step before crying out in agony and collapsing onto the concrete again.

* * *

"Stop!" Caleb heard Marie yell, and glanced over at Jonathan, who lay next to him. The man frowned, obviously just as confused by the command. "He's not the one you want- that's his _brother_."

"Jamie's dead," he hissed, gnashing his teeth. This was no time for heroics. "And I assume Jonathan's partner is, too- you don't-"

* * *

"Nik, get me Cal's bag," Ben called out, rolling onto his back. He just needed to get his leg wrapped up, and he could manage the rest. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, fighting back any emotions threatening to burst through at Caleb's news. He couldn't fight back that feral rage, though. There was no way in hell he was leaving without seeing the French cunt dead at his feet. "And a tire iron," he added, sitting upright. "We're coming to get you, Cal, so shut the fuck up and concentrate on your own shit."

* * *

Caleb shook his head, but he wasn't going to argue with him. It just wasted time. "She's turning in Jackson to DHS?" he whispered, taking his gun back when the man offered it. "Why?" He collapsed again as he attempted to prop himself on his better arm, smacking his face on the hardwood floor and realizing with a silent scream that his shoulder might be dislocated. But, he supposed that was what happened when a person was slammed through a solid wooden door, knocking the damn thing off its hinges. His entire body felt as though he had collided with a train.

"DHS wants in on your agency," Jonathan replied, shifting over the assassin to stay between him and the doorway. He got to his knees, his gun at high ready. "I've got you covered," he assured Caleb, having noticed the smaller man inspecting his shoulder. The previous bullets hadn't punctured the wall, which probably meant that they _were_ concrete. That meant they were covered well, but also meant that they weren't able to shoot through the wall, either. "She worked out a deal- we help kill your brother and-"

"And the agency and DHS become allies," Caleb finished in irritation, shaking his head as he climbed to his knees and removed both the zip-up hoodie and his t-shirt. So Marie worked out a deal with both the Chechens and the DHS? _That_ would never come back and bite her in the ass… "Who else knows about us? In DHS, I mean...well, besides everyone who will get the transcript," he asked, deciding that his shoulder was dislocated, but it felt like a partial dislocation, which meant an easy fix. Quick, but definitely not painless.

"Just us, and there won't be a transcript- no earpieces. Napolitano and Patterson would _never_ go for a deal like this," Jonathan assured him, referring to the Secretary of DHS and Director of FPS. "It was supposed to be fairly covert, similar to the association I'm assuming you have with the CIA."

"Who the hell knows _what_ we have?" Caleb muttered, suddenly very well aware of the frustration Jackson expressed regarding the subject of trust. Fuck double-dealing, some of the players were up to triple and quadruple-dealing at this point. Speaking of… "What the hell are _you_ doing here?" he asked, gritting his teeth against the pain as he held his left arm bent in front of him and slowly rotated it out to the side. "You aren't supposed to be FPS."

"And you aren't supposed to be Jackson's brother," Jonathan shot back, and the two men were temporarily silent, trying to hear what was happening on the other side of the wall. Nothing was happening- just talking, but Caleb couldn't make it out. It was a true stand-off, neither party willing to appear in the doorway and open themselves up to an attack. He carefully raised his arm toward the ceiling, his face twisting in silent pain and effort as the muscles stretched. He almost gasped in relief when he felt the shoulder joint relocate, lowering his arm again and picking up his gun.

For the moment, Caleb was willing to wait, but only because he was trying so hard to form a plan with so few options available.

Taking further advantage of the downtime, he carefully inspected his right arm, knowing Jonathan would be ready for any glimpse of a target. The bullet had torn almost straight across his forearm, shredding a decent hole that formed a small canyon across his flesh. It wasn't deep enough to have hit an artery, but he was _not_ out of the woods by any means. He couldn't flex the fingers in his right arm without a fresh spasm of pain, and his mobility was greatly reduced. It had been an almost perfect shot, right to the _flexor digitorum profundus_ muscle. The only way it could have been better- worse- was if she had severed the tendon instead of simply shooting across the muscle. He would have been proper fucked, then.

Caleb couldn't help but smile, despite everything that was happening. He still didn't know how Marie had figured out so quickly that he wasn't Jackson, but she must have shot his right arm on pure instinct when he had grabbed for Jonathan's gun. If she had taken a moment to assess the situation, she probably would have noticed that Caleb lunged for the gun with his left hand, not right. Jackson was right-handed, and Caleb was left-handed, and that tiny detail had saved them. It was so stupidly simple, but fucking fantastic for him, now that he was really thinking about it. His arm would heal, but it would likely be somewhat deadened, like Jackson's hand. If he had to chose a dead arm, he would much rather it be the right.

"I haven't worked with Keefe since he got promoted from FPS," Jonathan explained softly. "It was Spencer's show. She fed me the information, and I gave it to him. I've done some other gigs for her- we go back a bit."

Caleb nodded, softly scoffing again. Maybe when this was over, he would give himself a weekend just to sort through all this information, all of the time spent creeping in the-

The younger twin snapped his head up to the overhead light. _The dark_. He had an idea.

* * *

Ben leaned on Nikita as they made their way down the passageway. He was hearing nothing but talking from Caleb's end, so he knew there was no hurry, and Nikita was so much quieter than crutches. Every step sent throbbing pain up his leg, but Ben was no stranger to the feeling. He had been shot, stabbed, dealt with broken and sprained limbs, and had the shit kicked out of him more often than the twins put together, probably. He had never been shot three times in the same week, but records were made to be broken.

He was barely listening to the conversation in his ear, trying instead to remember the layout of the twisting, underground passages that Jackson had ramblingly relayed back in Miami. Ben knew the route Caleb and Jamie had taken, but this was new- he would have to remember to ask Jackson how the hell he knew it by heart some other time.

Adding to their snail pace was the fact that Ben didn't know which room this was all happening in. He and Nikita had come across a handful of doors, and he had listened intently at each. When he heard no voices or movement, they continued. There could be more shooters in those rooms, but Ben wasn't about to expose himself by investigating any further.

Despite the fact that he was hearing nothing violent in his earpiece, Ben knew that he didn't exactly have all the time in the world to get to Caleb. He knew there was a stand-off, but eventually, someone was going to make the first move.

* * *

"We're here." Caleb perked, hearing Ben's confirmation in his earpiece as he pulled his hoodie back on, zipping it all the way up to his throat.

"Five suits and Marie," he relayed softly, pulling his hood over his head. "Possibly a sixth, but he's an ally." He frowned, trying to think of a distinct description for the man so Ben would know not to shoot him, but he was coming up with nothing. The officer wasn't exactly wearing a red carnation. "If he's alive, he would be the one not trying to kill us. Jon and I are in an office on your right," he continued, assuming Ben was coming in through the back door. "But don't go until my mark- I have an idea."

"Are you sure you don't want me to go?" Jonathan asked, not turning as Caleb fired a few shots into the overhead light, ducking his head to avoid the shower of glass from both the bulbs and the fixture itself. He stared for a moment as the filaments in the bulb continued to burn, but within seconds, the flames had burnt out and the room was relatively dark. "Is your arm okay?"

* * *

Ben tightened his grip on the tire iron, his self-control slipping for a brief second at the knowledge that Caleb was injured. _Too fucking much_. First, finding out that Rick, the man who had been his roommate back in the early days had been launched across a room courtesy of Lisa, seeing his new teammates and manager dead all around him, then Jamie, the woman he had loved with all his heart at one point, and now Caleb was wounded and had successfully kept it from him until Jonathan had given away his state? What _else_?

* * *

Caleb nodded at Jonathan. He could easily send the man in his place, but since they were to the right of the door, anyone moving back further into the room and along the wall would have their left side exposed first. Since that was his shooting hand, it made sense for him to go. "Just keep talking like I'm with you," he whispered, but his attention was caught by Marie's voice calling out to him.

"Don't be stupid, Caleb," she appealed, and Caleb was sure by the sound of her voice she was moving closer. "You're not even the one we want- there's no reason to throw your life away, right?"

_Because you were going to let me live anyway._ Caleb hesitated briefly, realizing that in all likelihood, she _did_ want him alive. The shot to the arm had been nearly perfect, yes, but she could just as easily have gone for the chest or head- she had intended to take him alive from the start, and had never planned for Jamie to make it past the door. Jamie was a loose end, and if Caleb had been Jackson, he probably would have joined her on the hardwood before he even knew what hit him.

So yes, Marie was going to try and keep Caleb alive, at least long enough to lure Jackson into a rescue mission. He would like to think his brother wouldn't be so reckless, but come to think of it…he couldn't imagine Jackson able in any way to refuse the trade.

"You're never going to find him," Caleb called back, the taunt escaping his lips before he had a chance to be more rational about it. It was just occurring to him now, but if Marie somehow survived everything, Caleb absolutely couldn't. He could not allow himself to be taken alive. If it really came down to that, Caleb had to find a way to end his own life before Marie could use him as bait. _Charming. Just don't jump the gun._ Why did his stupid puns come out in Ben's voice in his own head?

Marie replied, but Caleb ignored her as he began to creep against the wall, moving around the perimeter of the room. She had to know he wasn't about to surrender, and so he had to assume this was some kind of distraction. Marie wouldn't waste words for the hell of it, so Caleb had to block her out, focusing solely on his plan.

The room wasn't pitch black, of course, but as long as his skin was relatively covered, and he moved slowly, it wouldn't be nearly as easy for the people on the other side of that wall to spot him.

"She knows who I am," he whispered to Ben, knowing the taller man would know exactly what he meant and the ramifications. It meant that if for whatever reason Caleb couldn't do it himself, it was down to Ben to put the bullet in his brain.

He stopped when he heard Ben's breathing change dramatically. "Come on Lex," he murmured, his whisper as soothing as he could manage without being picked up by anyone else and giving away his location. No one would blame Ben for starting to fall apart- the man had been holding it together despite the onerous circumstances for days now. He had to snap sometime, and apparently, the double-tap of knowing he might have to kill Caleb and Jamie's death was that proverbial straw. _Just hold it in a few more minutes._ "I need you right now."

"I've got this," Ben assured him, but Caleb heard the abnormally high pitch and the shaky, breathy tone. He knew the signs of holding back tears like the back of his own hand.

"Lie better," he whispered back, trying so hard to keep the sympathy from his voice. It was just another skill Jackson possessed that Caleb had yet to fully master- Jackson could be brilliant at keeping his team and even Caleb together by saying exactly what they needed to hear. In Ben's case, he needed to be reminded that breaking into pieces, no matter how justified, wasn't an option.

"Just for you," Ben whispered back honestly, and Caleb smiled faintly, resuming his silent prowling. He felt somewhat exposed with his entire face below his brow exposed, but had to hope the shadow from his hood was leaving at the most only a glimpse of skin to catch the light.

* * *

Ben turned toward Nikita and pushed her softly against the wall. "Nik, you're staying here," he insisted, whispering in her ear. "If you need to shoot, then shoot from the doorway, but do not go in that room. Understood?" Nikita opened her mouth to argue, but closed it when she saw that Ben was not giving her a choice.

He understood that she wanted to help, and also understood that she was completely capable, but when it came down to it, it wasn't her fight and there was no reason for her to open herself as a target unless her life depended on it. _Her_ life, and no one else's. Not even his.

* * *

Caleb took in the Ben's words, wishing that he and Jonathan could be exchanging information so easily. The New Yorker was coming in alone, and they needed to provide a distraction. When Ben in turn distracted whomever was left, Caleb and Jonathan could come out and catch the rest in a crossfire. But Jonathan didn't have their frequency, so Caleb could only hope the man knew how to follow the body language cues of someone he had no experience working with.

He finally made it to the wooden desk and now was able to move more quickly. The furniture probably wouldn't stop any bullets, but it gave him decent cover from being spotted. Unfortunately, it was also the kind of bulky object that Caleb would be watching if he was on the other side of that wall. He would be anticipating someone using it for cover, and watching intently for any sign of movement.

He pressed his cheek to the cold floor, glancing out from under the desk. He didn't have enough of a window to shoot from there, at least nothing but the soles of shoes _if_ the bullet didn't embed itself in the floor first, but it did give him a better idea of whether or not there would be anyone in his field of vision once he made it past the desk.

"I have two men in my sights- no idea where Marie is," he whispered to Ben, firing off the number to Jonathan via a hand signal. "And..._go_."

Caleb whipped around the last set of drawers and opened fire, knowing he had caught at least one of the men before diving behind the desk again, barely noticing the wood fragments that scratched his face and another bullet tearing through his shoulder. It was just the deltoid muscle, just pain. It was nothing. He lay prone, firing off the remaining bullets in his magazine through the desk with abandon, now just trying to create that distraction for Ben to slip in.

* * *

Ben stealthily opened the door, noting with satisfaction that the first leg of Caleb's plan was working. No one had noticed him yet. He moved forward with new determination, the previously throbbing pain in his leg now a mere dull ache that he didn't have time for. He only had time for two thoughts- one, Marie was going to die horribly, and two, Ben was _not_ going back to Jackson without Jamie and without the manager's little brother.

He approached the brunette woman from behind, a sick smile tugging at his mouth as he raised the tire iron, swinging with surprising restraint and cracking it across her skull with a grunt of effort. It wouldn't kill her, and he didn't want it to. He would come back for her.

"I'm in," he relayed before she had even hit the ground, turning his attention to the next closest man and firing a bullet into the man's head. Ben glanced at Marie again and brought his foot down hard, crushing the woman's hand under his heel and twisting away her gun just in case she still had the ability to fire.

* * *

Caleb snapped a new clip into his Colt and sprang to his feet, seeing Jonathan mimic his actions out of the corner of his eye, and advanced on the open doorway. He was pretty sure Jonathan had to have some experience in the Secret Service or something similar- the man moved in front of him without hesitation, as though he was offering protection.

Caleb emptied the new magazine with precision, not even giving the bodies enough time to hit the floor before moving onto the next. They couldn't waste any time- now that his position was compromised, Ben was completely vulnerable- but Caleb did try to keep an eye out for Jonathan's partner. He noticed the man just in time to see him hit the ground, shot by another FPS officer.

It only took mere seconds for that final assault- the officers had been sitting ducks caught in the middle of triangular gunfire whiplashing back and forth between two sets of partners.

* * *

Seeing that the two men had everything under control, Ben turned his attention back to Marie. He was a man completely possessed. He barely heard what has happening around him anymore, the yelling and gunfire muted as though everything was underwater. He only saw, smelled, tasted, felt, and heard his target. He _breathed_ that need to end her life.

Tossing the gun aside- it was too easy, too humane for her- Ben reached down and rolled Marie onto her back. The woman was already more than halfway to death, her eyes unfocused and confused. Ben stared at the gaping wound on the side of her head, the jagged bone fragments decorating the edges of the glistening mass of blood and brain matter like a cheap party popper.

Somehow, the woman was still able to make eye contact with him, and Ben knew by the absolute hatred in her blue eyes that she was aware of what- who- she was seeing. He smiled grimly, lowering himself to the floor and crawling up her body, dropping his entire weight onto one knee that pressed into the woman's throat. It was a trick he had learned from Jackson, and he had been on the receiving end of it- although not quite as forcefully- more than once after arguments that went too far. It seemed like an appropriate send-off for the specimen- Ben knew the manager would approve.

He listened to the wet, strangled gurgles from the director, saw the blood trickling from the corner of her mouth, and knew he wasn't simply strangling her- he was crushing her fucking throat. He watched felt her hands weakly grasping and pulling at his thigh, but only found himself saddened that she couldn't put up more of a fight. But he wasn't that upset- it wasn't too cruel. It was a mere fraction of what she deserved for everything she had done to the men and women under her rule.

"Jesus- _Mitchell_!" Ben snapped out of his trance and scrambled to his feet, watching Jonathan race over to a man on his back near the corner of the room, Caleb right at his heels, the right sleeve of his hoodie a deep shade of purple from soaked blood seeping into midnight blue fabric. Ben moved as quickly as he could, following the two men and not even bothering to glance back at Marie for her final seconds. She wasn't important enough for his time anymore- she was nothing.

* * *

"Nik, bag!" Caleb called out, kneeling by the fallen officer. He knew just by looking that his femoral artery was severed, the blood already pooling on the floor around the man. He glanced up to take the bag from the Russian's hands, passing it off to Ben to open for him. "Watch out for anyone coming through the doors," he commanded the woman, deciding they might as well have some cover just in case.

"Hold him down," he instructed to Jonathan, rolling up the sleeves of his hoodie and tearing Mitchel's pants open to give him a better view. He bent the man's leg, ignoring the blood flowing over his hands and down his wrists, as he carefully checked under his thigh. There was no exit wound, which made this so much easier. He didn't have time to remove the bullet, though- it was too dangerous and better left to the surgeons in the hospital with suction and _real _instruments. He lowered Mitchell's leg again, and turned back to Ben. "Get me a scalpel, gloves, Celox, and gauze," he ordered, wiping his hands on his hoodie as best he could as he watched as the officer began to lose consciousness. "Sterilize the scalpel with an alcohol pad."

"What the hell are you doing?" Jonathan demanded when Caleb pulled the gloves over his blood-stained hands and grabbed the scalpel from Ben's hand, but then continued to wait.

"Giving his pressure time to drop," Caleb replied calmly, watching the blood still pouring from the unconscious man's leg. "And it's easier for him if he can't feel it." It was a battlefield technique that Thomas had taught Caleb years ago- if he acted too quickly, the force of the blood would impede the Celox. "Trust me."

"Cal's a doctor," Ben added, trying to back Caleb up, but the younger man still heard the doubt in his voice. It was against all of their instincts to sit back and watch a man bleed to death.

Having Jonathan hold him down was probably unnecessary, but in case the officer wasn't completely unconscious, Caleb didn't want him moving for this next part. When he figured a minute and a half had gone by since Mitchell was shot, he brought the scalpel down and across the man's thigh, opening his wound to allow better access. "Gauze," he ordered, quickly soaking up most of the blood and tossing the fabric aside. "Celox." He grabbed the bag from Ben, tearing it open with his teeth and pouring the yellow granules directly into the wound. "More gauze, and give Jonathan some gloves."

Caleb pressed the gauze hard against the filled wound. "Keep holding pressure until I tell you to stop," he commanded, holding it himself until Jonathan took over. When the chemical hemostat had done its job, Caleb could remove the clot and dress the wound. After that, all Jonathan had to do was get him to the hospital. He moved away and attempted to get to his feet to take over for Nikita, enabling her and Ben to take what they needed from the computers, but Ben grabbed his good shoulder, keeping him down.

"Your turn," the old man said softly as he unzipped the hoodie, gently pulling it down Caleb's arms. "What's the story, doc?" Caleb glanced over at his right shoulder, finally able to see it in the light, and knew that his first assumption was correct. There was no exit wound, and not much blood- the bullet had merely embedded itself in the deltoid muscle. It was safe to remove, and required only skin sutures- the fascia and muscle would heal on its own.

"How's your sewing?" he asked, locking eyes with the taller man as Ben knelt in front of him, straddling his thighs.

"I know how to make a pillow pet," Ben replied lightly, pulling the bag closer. "What do I need?"

Caleb sighed, hating the idea of letting someone else operate on him. But it wasn't the end of the world- at least Ben was good with his hands. "Forceps," he began, adding "the things that look like scissors and tweezers had a bastard kid" when Ben looked at him in confusion. "That thread, and one of those needles," he continued, motioning to green and white box of nylon suture and small pack of J needles. "And some fucking vodka," he finished after Ben had set the necessary supplies down on Caleb's lap.

Caleb shook his head when Ben removed the cap from the bottle and moved to pour it on the wound, swiping the liquor from him. "It's for my nerves," he muttered, taking a long drink. Ben only grinned, pulling on a pair of gloves, and Caleb exhaled deeply, setting the bottle down next to him, nodding a go-ahead.

He watched as Ben wedged his forearm between his left arm and rib cage, squeezing his eyes shut against the onslaught of pain. It wasn't an ideal situation, but Caleb was likely going to instinctively pull away as soon as Ben began, and having his arm trapped like that with the forearm wound treated first could easily tear the sutures. He cried out, clenching his teeth hard and pressing his forehead to Ben's shoulder, twisting his fingers of his free hand in his shirt when the man added to his agony by digging for the bullet. Ben actually had impressively skilled fingers, but he just wasn't trained, and muscles weren't meant for this kind of invasion.

"I can see why you waited for that guy to pass out," Ben murmured apologetically, dropping the bloody forceps and bullet on the floor with a soft clatter. Caleb just nodded, pulling away from his friend to take another drink of vodka, coughing as it burned his throat. It probably wasn't the best idea to be drinking now, but he needed _something_, and he couldn't very well assess and treat Ben's injuries with morphine in his bloodstream.

"Suture it up," Caleb commanded firmly, taking another drink before setting the bottle aside again. He grabbed the back of Ben's head by his hair and leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together. He exhaled deeply, trying to gather up his courage before releasing Ben, and at the same time, thanking the man for holding it together for him, for ignoring his orders and coming after him. "The next one's going to be worse."

* * *

Jackson pulled himself to his feet, pacing slowly around the room. The movement was subconscious- he was barely thinking anymore. The hour and a half mark had come and gone, and still no word. He was crawling out of his skin waiting for something, anything to let him know his brother and friends were alright.

Lisa was silent, watching him move around the room. She probably wanted to reassure him, tell him everything was okay, but neither of them could know.

Jackson's mind refused to stop moving, stop assuming the worst. There were so many things he should have said while he still had the chance, to all of them.

He lunged for the nightstand when he heard the phone ring, almost losing his balance and crashing against the wall. He answered the phone without even checking the ID, but he remained silent. There was no greeting suitable for this kind of scenario.

"Marie's dead," were Caleb's first words to him, but Jackson hardly heard them. He immediately picked up on his brother's tone, and his heart tightened in his chest. The words might be good news, but what was about to follow was definitely not. His brother sounded so _violated_, so shaken up, and Jackson dropped on the bed, wincing heavily at the jolt of pain, but not caring.

"She made a deal with DHS too- you for a partnership- and they were there to meet us," Caleb continued, and Jackson knew he was dancing around the point. The information was relevant, and sparked a whole new rage in Jackson's chest, but it was merely Caleb's way of building up to his true intention. Jackson still remained silent, the fingers of his free hand dancing along his jawline as he waited- he wasn't about to push the man.

"Jonathan's here- he's actually FPS, not one of Keefe's guys," Caleb pointed out, his voice rising as though he had just remembered the information. "He said Spencer had him pose as an informant, and that you can call him if you ever need anything. We're going to work out a cover story for why they were here and how they ended up dead, so don't worry about that."

_Jesus Christ_. Jackson briefly snapped his head to look his mother, his eyes flashing. He was sick of her meddling and lies, but her time would come.

"After that, Ben, Nikita, and I are going to Minnesota. Sasha's on her way there too. We'll have to drive, so could you give them a few days before you have Spencer plaster their faces all over the news?" It wasn't really a question, but Jackson nodded anyway. "And I'm back in."

Jackson got to his feet, unable to remain silent anymore. "Absolutely not," he snapped, walking right out of the room, the phone still to his ear. "Caleb, you're going to be fucking _normal_, alright? It's what you want."

"I'm _not_ normal," Caleb replied, and Jackson heard the regret in his voice. "This is right for me, so, even if...please let me?" Jackson dropped his forehead into his palm, gripping his bangs tightly. Everything in him was screaming _no_, but he knew he had to at least Caleb make his case, and the man was in no mental shape to do so.

"We'll talk about it later," he managed, silently grunting in frustration. He had never intended to bring Caleb into it for _good_, for fuck's sake. His head snapped up, suddenly aware of the name that hadn't been mentioned.

"What about Jamie?" _Tell me she's fine. Tell me she's going back to New York and you just haven't gotten to that part, yet._

"She's dead."

Jackson stared blankly at nothing, waiting for the words to somehow change in his ear, as though there was any way to misunderstand those two words. "Jack-" Jackson threw the phone hard against the wall, not even hearing the plastic pieces clatter to the ground as he dropped softly into an armchair, leaning forward and gripping the top of his head with both hands, pulling hard at his hair.

He inhaled shakily, his heart fighting overtime to reject the information. Jamie couldn't be dead. She was one of the most alive people he had ever known, a complete one-eighty from the homeless, sixteen-year-old junkie strung out on heroin that had already given up on the world she had been when they met. She was five years younger than the twins, and in the beginning, Jackson had protected her as fiercely as he would have an actual little sister.

Over those years, she had transformed from the angry brat of a kid to one of Jackson's best friends, the only person other than Rick who remained from the 'old world', and the closest thing to a confidant he had after Caleb and Ben were gone. And now both she and Rick were just _dead_, as though they had never existed. The only impact either of them left were on those handful of people left behind. He had never gotten to say goodbye to either of them, never had been able to express in words how much either of them meant to him. The last words he would ever say to the young woman would always be betrayal, despite his intentions. Hell, he hadn't even directly _addressed_ her in that conversation.

He ignored the sensible voice in his head reminding him that death was always a possibility to people like him. He knew the deal, but he didn't have to like it. He didn't have to accept it, and at the moment, he just wasn't.

"Jackson?" He hadn't even realized he had been crying freely until he heard Lisa's voice, ripping him back into reality. He didn't respond or look up at her though- not because he was ashamed, but because looking at her might turn his tears to full-on, painful sobs.

Jackson flinched as he heard Lisa kneel in front of him, moving forward to sit between his thighs and squeezing his upper arms. He dropped his head down onto her shoulder, not finding the ability to care that he was causing either of them pain as he wrapped his arms tightly around her back. He couldn't let go of her- he needed that warm presence to soothe his sanity.

It wouldn't do any good to tell her about Jamie, to warn her of how people like him ended up. She knew, and she had already chosen to stay with him despite all of it. They had made their decision, but he still felt such a strong urge to do whatever he had to so she would go back to her family. He had to ignore that urge- it wasn't an option anymore, but there was still something he could do.

"When I'm director," he began, his voice tattered with pain, both physical and emotional, "will you be my analyst?" He felt Lisa tense under his touch, and knew that the poor woman was likely confused as hell with his opening. It probably wasn't at all what she had expected. "I need someone I trust," he continued, pleading with her through his tone, "and I can't put you in the field."

"I don't think I can," she finally replied, each word full of hesitation. "That's a lot of responsibility, isn't it?" While Jackson had been rambling to Lisa earlier that day, he had explained to her what the analyst's role was in the agency. He or she was essentially every administrative position rolled into one- secretary, accounting, inventory, and file and mail clerk. They kept track of the funds, the weapons and technology, the jobs, the intelligence, the contacts, and the associates themselves- their locations, aliases, and whatever else needed to be on record. The Radar O'Reilly of the agency. "What if I let you down?"

Jackson shook his head. "You won't. I'll help you," he insisted, shifting so he could kiss her, his hands on either side of her jaw, his fingers resting in her hair. "We all will. Please, Leese."

Lisa opened her eyes at Jackson's plea, and felt her heart lurch at the red-rimmed pools boring into her soul, silently begging her. Every time she thought she couldn't see him more vulnerable in her hands, he proved her wrong. She wanted to ask what had happened to make him so upset, but he was determined, and waiting for an answer.

She wanted to tell him everything he wanted to hear, but could she do that job? Could she effectively manage an entire branch of the agency, especially when she had no real experience in their line of work? Or was it more or less the same as managing the Lux Atlantic, keeping track of .45 ammo instead of tiny bottles of cheap hand lotion, paying hackers instead of caterers?

Lisa finally nodded, pressing another kiss to Jackson's waiting lips. Yes, she could do what he needed. She would have his back. And hell, she might actually be better at it than being out in the field.

She deepened the kiss, wishing that her agreement was all Jackson needed to soothe his misery, but she knew that like herself, Jackson's suffering would never be something anyone could magically heal. He might never fully heal, never be what society would deem normal, but it gave Lisa comfort knowing that she could still do her small part. She could bear it with him, just as he had- and would- for her.

They had both found someone to suffer with, someone to share their laughter, tears, and anger, someone to help them over, under, and through any obstacles that appeared in their path. A bond that would never be orthodox between two people who would never be complete on their own. Two parts of a damaged whole. Two people who at any point could decide that it wasn't worth it anymore, a future shrouded in the unknown, the opposite of security and at the same time, as safe as either of them would ever be.

Lisa would take it over perfection any day.


	44. Preview!

**So I've decided I'll give a sequel a shot. I don't even have a title yet, but here's a preview from an event _way _down the line. The actual first chapter should be posted sometime before Christmas. Happy early Thanksgiving to those who celebrate it! Also, if I know I have a few Russian readers out there- if any of you are interested in helping me out with this one (names, culture, etc), please send me a PM. Internet research only gets me so far, and I do like these things to be accurate.**

**Quick background- it's been about a year since B&R's last chapter. Lisa and Jackson are living in New York, and Lisa is pregnant. All very cute and domestic, but things have gone a little wrong in their plans to take down Priliv- Jackson is in Russia attempting negotiate with the FSB to free Ben from Black Dolphin. Nikita is there as well as his translator and Caleb has been there with the remnants of Jackson's old team plus a few new associates, including Jon, using Ben's information to slowly take down the Chechens. Lisa and Sasha get an unwelcome visitor. Enjoy!**

* * *

Lisa stared at the wounded, bound, and gagged Russian in her bathtub, watching the running water of the shower dilute his blood, leaving pale streams trickling down his sides and pooling on the rug under him. Her eyes met his, and she clenched down hard at the absolute hatred burning into her. She didn't pity him- he had chosen to break into her home.

She gripped the marble countertop, pulling herself from the tiled floor with effort and made her way over to the closed bathroom door. She pressed against the wood surface, trying to hear what Sasha was telling whomever it was at the front door before resigning herself to reluctantly trust that the young girl could explain away the gunshot that the person must have heard.

She had to trust that Sasha had it under control, because she had more important things to worry about- she had to warn Jackson. She had no idea what he would do- would he bail and leave Ben stuck in the hands of the Russians, or would he continue on with negotiating his friend's release, possibly risking his own life more than he was?- but she had to at least give him a heads up.

But she didn't have her phone with her. She wasn't prone to either carrying it in her pajamas or leaving it in the bathroom. No, it was in their bedroom, and she had to get to it.

Without a second thought, Lisa leaned her head under the running water of the shower, letting her hair soak before stripping down to nothing. She grabbed a towel and vigorously rubbed at her wet hair, wrapping the damp fabric around her body and securing it tightly before turning off the shower, opening the door and stepping out into the living room. She couldn't wait for the person to leave- every second was precious.

Lisa let out a small cry of faux surprise at the security guard standing in her doorway, clutching her towel tighter around her body as both he and Sasha turned to look at her. The man quickly apologized, explaining that he was investigating a neighbor's concern at the loud crash coming from their unit.

"She's a little clumsy," Lisa replied with a sheepish smile, knowing that Sasha had planned to tell the guard that she had dropped a stock pot while attempting to make breakfast. "But thank you for your concern, Paul." She didn't want to take the time to say anything, but it would look entirely suspicious if she merely ran to her room.

But she also didn't have to stick around, and wouldn't be expected to considering the fact that she was wearing only a towel, and so she took the moment to continue on her way, wishing the guard a good day, of course. She made it into the bedroom and closed the door behind her, now hurrying toward the nightstand and grabbing her cell phone, quickly dialing Jackson's number.

Please pick up… Lisa counted two rings before she heard his voice, and let out a sigh of relief, dropping down onto the bed. "Shouldn't you be getting violated by Divinski?" he asked in confusion, referring to her ob/gyn appointment.

"Canceled," she replied quickly, choosing her next words carefully. She had to tell him what was happening, but if she went about it the wrong way, he was going to get hung up on her safety instead of his own. She also had to get it out quickly- she had no idea when he was supposed to meet with the FSB to negotiate Ben's release. "We're handling it," she began placing her free hand on her large stomach, "but there's a half-dead Russian in our shower- he broke in."

"We haven't gotten to question him yet," Lisa continued without pausing for a reaction, "so I don't know who he is or what he came for- I just know he's Russian because he spoke the language. But...I don't think it's a coincidence."

"That he happened to come when you were supposed to be gone?" Jackson finally replied, confirming her theory with a tight voice. "Not fucking likely. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, we're okay," Lisa replied, her voice calm. She did have the situation under control, and had no intention of adding to his stress more than was necessary. "I just didn't know when you were supposed to meet with Yermakov, so-"

"No, you're right," Jackson assured her, and Lisa could tell he was thinking a mile a minute, trying to process every implication and possibility. "Do you...think you can get info from him?"

Lisa sighed, knowing exactly what he was asking. Could they interrogate the man? More specifically, could they do whatever was necessary to get answers from him? A non-Russian speaking, very pregnant woman and a semi-fluent teenage girl with zero experience interrogating a man who could be anyone, ranging from a common criminal, or a terrorist, to some kind of Russian police.

"I think so," she replied, trying to keep her voice firm. She couldn't promise anything, but damn it, they were going to try. Jackson, Caleb, and Ben's lives probably depended on it. And hell, more could come from wherever this guy came from, so Lisa and Sasha's lives likely depended on it, too.

"Get what you can," Jackson instructed her, and Lisa could hear just how conflicted he was. She knew he was hating that he couldn't be there, but there was nothing they could do about it now. She had to do her part and get any information to him. "Then-" He paused, his voice softening again. "Would you feel better if you left?"

"No," she replied quickly. "If more are coming, don't we want to catch them? And I really don't want to move all of our equipment…" She wasn't feeling all that up to fleeing, either- she was exhausted, nauseous, and was pretty sure she could go into fucking labor at any point- but she didn't want to bring it up and have Jackson worrying about her even more.

"I'll have someone come over then," Jackson explained, respecting Lisa's decision and trying to offer her some kind of protection. She considered the possibilities of whom Jackson could call, awkwardly pulling on fresh clothes.

"Spencer?" she asked cautiously. She knew he wouldn't particularly like the idea- at all- but she just wanted someone she knew, to give her some peace of mind. To be quite honest, she was pretty sure she could get away with a little more at the moment and the woman was highly intelligent _and_ used to be an assassin herself, so Lisa felt confident she could keep them safe.

Jackson sighed heavily. "Alright," he conceded. Lisa sat down on the bed again, frowning. All she wanted to do was keep talking to him- hearing his voice made it seem as though he wasn't an ocean and a continent away, making the situation feel so much more bearable. She was also well aware that as soon as she hung up, he was just going to wait for another call, the seconds becoming an agonizing forever, but time was a luxury they didn't have at the moment.

She was about to end the call, when another horrible implication hit her. "Can we trust her?" she asked softly. There were only a handful of people who knew where she and Jackson lived- Caleb, Nikita, Sasha, Jon, Trudi, and anyone who knew Jackson's new alias, which meant a few CIA agents, Spencer included. Not even Ben knew- the poor man had been in prison for almost ten months now, since before Jackson and Lisa moved. And there were even fewer people who knew about Lisa's appointment- Sasha, whomever Jackson had told- Caleb, probably, and maybe Nikita- and anyone with access to hospital records who knew Lisa's alias- again, a few CIA agents, Spencer included.

There were only so many people who could have sold them out- Ben's daughter, Ben's ex-girlfriend, Jackson's brother, Jackson's _mother_, and maybe three or four others. Sasha wouldn't know where to start, and Nikita probably wouldn't, either. Caleb might, but would _never_. Would Spencer? Regardless, even if it wasn't those four, it was someone whom it should never have been. Someone whom Lisa and Jackson were supposed to be able to trust, who had sent a Russian into _their home_. Lisa was going to find out, and when she did, even dental records wouldn't help identify the traitor.


End file.
